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A VIEW 



THE SOIL AND CLIMATE 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



A VIEW 



THE SOIL AND CLIMATE 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA: 

WITH SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS 

UPON FLORIDA ; ON THE FRENCH COLONIES ON THE MISSISSIPPI 
AND OHIO, AND IN CANADA; AND ON THE ABORIGINAL TRIBES 
«F AMERICA. 



BY C. F. yOLNEY, 

MEMBER or THE CONSERVATIVE SENATE, Ijfc. iS't. 
TRANSLATED, WITH OCCASIONAL REMARKS, 

BY C. B. BROWN. 



TVITH MAPS AXD PLATES. 



PHILADELPHIA, 

rUBLlSHEr BY J. CONRAD & CO PHILADELPHIA; M. & J. CONRAD & CO, 
BALTIMORE; RAPIN, CONRAD, & CO. WASHINGTON CITY; SOMERVELL 
k CONRAD, PETERSBURG; AND BONSAI., CONRAD, & CO. NORFOLK. 
PRINTED BY T. l^ G. PALMER, 116, HIGH STREET. 



PREFACE. 



THE following work is the fruit of a 
residence of three years in the United States, 
which took place in circumstances widely differ- 
ent from those of my residence, twenty years 
ago, in Turkey. In the year 1783, I embarked 
at Marseilles, with all the gaiety of heart, all the 
cheerful and aspiring hopes natural to youth. 
I exchanged, without regret, a land of plenty 
and peace for a region of anarchy and desola- 
tion, actuated merely by a thirst of useful know- 
ledge, and a desire to employ the restless and 
inquisitive period of youth, in making provision 
for the consolation and embellishment of age. 
In the year 1795, I embarked at Havre for 
America, with all the dreary feelings that flow 
from the observation and experience of perse- 
cution and injustice. Saddened by the past^ 



VI 

anxious for the future, I set out for a land of 
freedom, to discover whether hberty, which was 
banished from Europe, had really found a place 
of refuge in any other part of the world. 

In this frame of mind, I visited almost every 
part of the United States, studying the climate, 
the laws, the people, and their manners, chiefly 
in the relations of social and domestic life ; and 
such was the contrast which the scene before 
me bore to that which I had left, that I resolved 
to make it my future residence. France, and 
indeed Europe in general, presented to my view 
nothing but a gloomy and tempestuous pros- 
pect ; a series of endless and obstinate wars, 
between expiring prejudices and new-born know- 
ledge, between anticjuated privileges and popu- 
lar claims. Here I beheld nothing but a splendid 
prospect of future peace and happiness, flowing 
from the wide extent of improveable territory ; 
from the facility of procuring property in land ; 
from the necessity and the profits of labour; 
from the liberty of action and industry ; and from 
the equity of the government, a virtue which it 
owes to its very weakness. Here, therefore, I 
resolved to remain, when, in the spring of 1798, 
there broke out so violent an animosity against 



%■ 



vu 

France, and a war seemed so inevitable, that I 
Was obliged to withdraw from the scene. 

I might here complain of the violent and pub-, 
lie attacks made upon my character, with the 
connivance, or at the instigation of a certain emi- 
nent personage, during the last days of my resi- 
dence in America ; but the election of 1801 has 
reversed the scene that took place in 1797, and 
is to m.e an ample atonement for all that I have 
suffered. I cannot, however, forbear dwelling 
on the folly of the suspicions with which 1 was 
loaded. I was stigmatized as the emissary of a 
government, whose axe was continually falling 
on the necks of those whose conduct and opi- 
nions resembled mine. They fancied that I was 
Engaged in a conspiracy (me, a single solitary 
Frenchman) to throw Louisiana into tlie hands 
of the directory, which, at that time, had scarcely 
an existence, in defiance of the testimony of a 
thousand witnesses, the most respectable in Ken- 
tucky, as well as in Pennsylvania and Virginia, 
who knew my sentiments to be entirely hostile 
to such a transfer of territory. They knew that 
I regarded the scheme as visionary and delusive, 
and dreaded it as tending to embroil us with the 
United States, and to strengthen their bias to- 



# 



via 

wards England. It was well known to be my 
opinion, that its settlement would be expensive 
and precarious, its defence difficult, on account 
of our languishing marine, and the instability of 
our government ; and that it could not fail^ 
sooner or later, of blending itself with the nation 
contiguous to it, and which alone possesses the 
adequate means of governing, peopling, and de- 
fending it. These notions, so contrary to those 
of most of our ministers and statesmen, exposed 
me to their hatred, and almost to their persecu- 
tion. Nevertheless I continued to maintain 
them when there was no small danger in doing 
so ; for which I may now take some credit to 
myself, since these principles have since been 
sanctioned and adopted by the highest autho- 
rity. 

My readers will doubtless be surprised when 
they are informed that the ill-will of the first 
magistrate, at a time when the great Washing- 
ton gave me many public proofs of his esteem 
and confidence, arose entirely from the vanity 
o{ author ship ^ made sore by my objections to his 
book on the constitutions of America. As a 
man of reading and a stranger, often questioned 
on the subject in a land of perfect liberty, I had 



'wf 



oceasion to speak my sentiments before the au- 
thor had been elevated to the highest office in 
the government. Unluckily I concurred with 
one of the best English critics, who condemned 
the book as a crude and inaccurate compilation, 
and insinuated that it was written with some 
secret purpose, which the course of future 
events only could unfold. I ventured to sus- 
pect that this purpose was the g-^iining, by this 
national flattery, the popular favour and suf- 
frages: when the prophecy was fulfilled, the 
prophet was not forgotten. 

On my return to France, I conceived the de- 
sign of a work as advantageous to my country- 
men, as it would be useful to myself; which was 
that of comparing my own observations and 
reflections with those already scattered through 
various publications, in order to detect and re- 
move some errors adopted in moments of enthu- 
siasm. After laying a suitable foundation in an 
examination of the climate and soil, I proposed, 
agreeably to the most natural and instructive 
method, to consider the numbers of the people, 
their difl'usion over the surface of their territory, 
their distribution into classes and professions, 
their manners as influenced by their actual situ- 

b 



ation, and by the habits and prejudices derived 
from their ancestors. By simply tracing their 
history, laws, and hmgunge, I proposed to detect 
the error of tliose wlio represent, as a sort of 
new-born race, as an infa)it nation^ a mere med- 
ley of adventurers from all parts of Europe, but 
more especially from the three British kingdoms. 
The composition of these worn out and motley 
elements, into one political body, would have led 
me to explain briefly the formation of each colo- 
ny, to pouriray their founders, to analize those 
early principles, which have run through ail 
their institutions and which exemplify the com- 
mon observation, that early habits and impres- 
sions modify tlie whole existence of collective 
bodies, as well as of individuals. We should 
thus have discovered the sources of that diver- 
sity, which grows daily more conspicuous in the 
character and conduct of the different parts of 
the union. 

In a brief review of the circumstances attend- 
ing the claim of independence, many new remarks 
would have been suggested as to its real nature 
and consequences. Many striking resemblances 
would have presented themselves between the 
American and French revolutions, which have 



XI 



hitherto escaped superficial observers. In the 
motives and conduct of parties, and the mcrins 
they used, we discover a manifest resemblance. 
There v/ill appear the same fluctuation of views 
and interests, the same ultimate decline of pub- 
lic spirit. Even in the character of the three 
successive national assemblies, both nations pre- 
sent the same picture ; the first of these having 
outstripped, and the last having fallen short of 
the knowledge and improvements of a whole ge- 
neration. We shaU one day learn that the great 
national commotions called revolutions, are not 
so much the creatures of prudence and design, 
as mechanical cltects produced by the impulse 
and collision of the passions. 

In discussing the events, so little known, of 
the period tiiat elapsed from the revolution to 
the establishment of the federal government, I 
should have shown in what manner the national 
character was influenced by that season of dis- 
order; the changes in public opinion, wrought 
by an inundation of returning royalists, and of 
mercantile adventurers from Europe ; the depra- 
vity of manners and corruption of principles, 
flowing from the creation of paper-money; the 
weakness of the laws ; and from the transient 



Xll 



wealth and permanent luxury which the wars in 
Europe poured into a neutral country. 1 should 
have explained the influence of European wars 
on the prosperity of these states ; the benefits 
they iiave visibly acquired, in spite of their feeble 
and disjointed government, from the last war; 
the obvious advancement of their power and am- 
bition towards the West Indian isles and the 
neigiibouring continent ; and their probable 
aggrandizement in future, notwithstanding their 
internal factions and divisions. I should have 
explained that disjunction of interests and views, 
and contrariety of habits, which already separate 
the eastern from the southern, the Atlantic from 
the Mississippi states; the preponderance of the 
mercantile interest in the one, and the agricultu- 
ral in the other; the weakness of the soutb^ from 
the prevalence of slavery ; and the strength of 
the east^ the fruit of private freedom and indus- 
try. I should have dwelt upon the grand source 
of their divisions, in their jarring political 
systems, which have split the nation into fede- 
ralists and republicans; the former maintaining 
the superiority of monarchical, or rather of des- 
potic principles of government, over all others; 
the necessity, in all governments, of " absolute 



XIU 



and irresistible power, created by the headstrong 
passions and incurable ignorance of the multi- 
tude, and sanctioned by the example or experi- 
ence of ail nations ; a power raised upon a poli- 
tico-religious foundation, like that claimed by the 
Stuarts of England : the latter asserting that 
absolute power is the primary source of national 
vice and misery; that those who exercise it are 
exempt from none of the errors and passions of 
their fellow mortals, but, on the contrary, that it 
manifestly tends to produce, diffuse, and perpe- 
tuate these errors and these passions, both in 
the master and the slave. Unlimited authority 
always runs into tyranny and frenzy, and is the 
parent of that popular corrtiption for which it is 
tiie boasted antidote. If men are by nature de- 
generate and vicious, these evils can only be 
corrected by reason and justice, and create a 
stronger necessity for a wise and equitable go- 
vernment, and this is attainable only by ardent 
and general discussion and enquiry, by the 
utmost freedom of consultation and opinion 
among all who partake the same common nature. 
In short, the doctrines of this party are contained 
in the declaration of rights, on which the consti- 
tution of the United States is built. 



XIV 



I should have enquired into the consequences 
to be dreaded from these dissentions : whether 
the dismemberment of this vast body into a few 
powerful parts would be as dangerous to the 
general peace and safety as is commonly imagin- 
ed ; whether liberty and energy be not impaired 
by a combination so very compact and entire ; 
whether a youthful nation may not be corrupted 
by sucii profound security, such unvarying pros- 
perity ; whetiier that yoiithy which they are so 
prone to attribute to their nation, be not more 
strongly indicated by their lively and ambitious 
hopes, than by their actual weakness; and whe- 
ther it does not chiefly appear in that insolence 
and inexperience with which they greedily de- 
vour the goods of fortune, and hearken to the 
blandishments of flattery, 

I should then have considered the conduct of 
this people and their government, from 1783 to 
1798, in a moral view, and should have proved, 
by the plainest facts, that this conduct has not 
been suitable to the magnitude of their numbers 
and territory, to the importance of their situa- 
tion and their duties; that they have shown less 
frugality and order in their expences, less integ- 
rity in their transactions with strangers, less 



XV 



public decency, less moderation and forbearance 
in iheir factions, less discipline in their semina- 
ries of education, than most of the old nations of 
Europe. That what they are able to show of 
meritorious and useful, wliat portion they have 
of public or private security and liberty, they 
principally owe to popular and individual habits, 
to a casual equality of conditions, to the neces- 
sity of diligence, and the high price given for 
labour. That the character and principles of 
their leaders have deplorably degenerated; that, 
in 1798, very little more was v/anting to one of 
the parties, but a suitable occasion and favour- 
able means, in order to subvert the whole struc- 
ture built up by their revolution. That they 
are indebted, for their public and private pros- 
perity, more to their remote and disconnected 
situation, to their distance from powerful neigh- 
bours and the theatre of war, to a lucky and for- 
tuitous concurrence of events, than to the whole- 
some vigour of their laws, or the wisdom and 
discretion of their governors. 

These will doubtless be thought very daring 
assertions, after all the eulogies lavished on this 
people by their own v/riters, and by those of 
Europe, and after the motion made in congress, 



to decree that tbeir imtion is the wisest and most 
eiiligbtifHtd upon eartb^; but as censure does not 
always flow from envy or malice, as undeserved 
blame is less hurtful tnan unmerited praise, and 
since I cannot now be suspected of resentful or 
sinister motives, I might have ventured to utter 
truths, which, though harsh, would not have 
been denied by im.partial readers ; particularly 
as, in thus performing the office of a monitor, I 
sliould have given my warmest applause to that 
by which the United States is most gloriously 
distinguished, the liberty of opinions and of the 
press. 

In viewing this country, as a refuge for Frencli- 
men, I should have delivered the dictates of my 
own experience and that of many of my country- 
men, as to the resources and amusements which 
our merchants and our wealthy idlers would 
meet with in the cities, and what enjoyments the 
country would afford them. It might appear 
absurd, but I should not hesitate, to dissuade 
my countrymen from following my own example. 
The truth is, that, in this country, as many faci- 
lities and benefits attend the settlement of the 

* Where is the record of this motion to be found? — Trans. 



XVll 

English, Scots, Germans, and even Hollanders, 
from the resemblance that prevails between their 
manners and habits and those of America, as 
there are disadvantages and obstacles, flowing 
from a contrariety m these respects, attending 
natives of France. I have observed, with much 
regret, none of that friendly and brotherly good- 
will, in this people, towards us, with which some 
writers have flattered us. On the contrary, they 
appear to me to be strongly tinctured with the 
old English prejudice and animosity against us; 
a spirit exasperated by the ancient wars of Cana- 
da; impel fectly suspended by their alliance with 
us, during their rebellion ; and revived, of late 
years, with uncommon force, by the declamations 
of their orators, by the addresses of their towns 
and corporations to president Adams, on occa- 
sion of the pillage suffered by their com.merce 
from our privateers, and even by public exer- 
cises and oratorical invectives in their colleges. 
There is nothing in the social forms and habits 
of the two nations that can make them coalesce. 
They tax us with levity, loquacity, and folly ; 
while we reproach them vv^ith coldness, reserve, 
and haughty taciturnity ; with despising those 
engaging and sedulous civilities, which v/e so 

c 



XVill 



highly value, and the want of which are con- 
strued by us into proofs of impoliteness in the 
individual, or of barbarism in the whole society. 
Yet the latter charges must have some founda- 
tion, since they are often made by German and 
English travellers, as well as by ourselves. I, 
who had been already, by my residence among 
the Turks, in a great measure delivered from 
slavery to forms, was more disposed to scrutinize 
the cause, than to repine at the effect, and to me 
this national incivility appears to flow, less from 
a proud or unsocial temper, than from the mu- 
tual independence of each other, and the general 
equality, as to fortune and condition, in which in- 
dividuals m America are, for the most part, 
placed. 

Such was my plan: some branches of which 
I have been able to accomplish, but my recent 
engagements, both of a public and private na- 
ture, will not permit me to complete the whole. 
I have therefore resolved to publish at present 
only that part of my work which m.ay be de- 
tached, without injury or mutilation, from the 
entire performance. 

In sending this work abroad, I am far from 
indulging those sanguine hopes, which many 



XIX 



readers may ascribe to rae. The splendid suc- 
cess of my Travels in Egypt^ so far from inspir- 
ing me with confidence, in the issue of similar 
undertakings, contributes rather to a contrary 
effect ; my present theme being much less diver- 
sified and entertaining ; more grave, abstruse, 
and scientific ; and there always being an abun- 
dance of readers who feel and act like the Athe- 
nian, whose voice was for punishment, merely 
because he was tired of hearing Aristides called 
the jiisC. 

I have sometimes even thought it most pru- 
dent to write no more ; but I likewise refiected, 
that to have once done vv^ell, affords no excuse 
for doing nothing the rest of our lives; that I 
owe all the consolations I possessed in adversity 
to books and study j and all the benefits of my 
present situation to literature and the good opi- 
nion of the liberal and ingenious. I offer them, 
therefore, this last tribute of my gratitude, this 
final testimony of my zeal for the advancement 
of knowledge. 

I have prepared myself, in what I have written 
and published, to meet a great deal of obloq^uy 
from the Americans themselves, whom their own 
cause w^ill inspire with zeal, and who make it 



XX 



their favourite business to combat European 
writers. Tiiey act as if they were the advocates 
and avengers of their predecessors, the Indians. 
Their zeal Ukewise is inflamed, by all those anti- 
gallican prejudices, which are industrious in de- 
crying every thing that comes from a nation of 
atheists and jacobins : but time, which changes 
every thing, will do justice to detraction as well 
as flattery; and since I never pretended to be 
infallible, I shall content myself with having 
directed some attention, and cast some new light, 
upon many subjects that have been hithert® 
wholly overlooked. 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 



THE author of the folloAving work first acquir- 
ed distinction, in the reading world, by publishing 
Travels in Syria and Egypt. In many respects this 
work far exceeded, in accuracy and comprehensive- 
ness, every former work on the same subject. It 
was, however, secretly pervaded by a bias against the 
natives of these countries, by a disposition to view 
them in the worst light, and by a general persuasion 
that these countries ought to be possessed by France. 
With this view he was led to dwell more upon the 
misery of the people, whom a revolution might bene- 
fit, and more particularly on the folly and depravity 
of their government, which would render them an 
easy prey to invasion, than former travellers, who 
had none of these prepossessions, had done. With 
all the science and method, therefore, which that work 
displays, are combined a great deal of error and mis- 



XXll 

take, and thev tliat wish to be acquainted with these 
celebrated provinces, ought indeed by no means to 
overlook, but still less ought they wholly to confine 
their attention to Volney's account of them. 

After a lapse often or fifteen years, Volney con- 
ceived the design of visiting another hemisphere. 
The rising states of America offered him not only 
an object wortliy of his curiosity, but a place of se- 
cure asylum in a time of danger and distress. Ame- 
rica vras, to him, pretty much in the same situation 
as Syria and Egypt had been. Former French tra- 
vellers had brought back the most flattering pictures 
of the people, their climate, and their government, 
and the splendid success (as he himself styles it) of 
his former work inspired him with new zeal to apply 
the test of his wonderful sagacity to their fond delu- 
sions, and reduce their exaggerated dreams and glow- 
ing fancies to the standard of truth and good sense. 

Fortunately for Volney, circumstances have pre- 
vented him from publishing his observations on the 
government and manners of the people. These are 
topics, on which his prejudices as a Frenchman, and 
as a vain and captious mortal, would have abundant 
opportunity to show themselves, and in which he 
would have been in perpetual danger of shocking the 
prejudices of the people he described. He has merely 



XXIU 

confined himself to a review of the physical condition, 
as to surface and climate, of the United States, and 
to some remarks on the character and situation of 
the aboriginal tribes. 

Considered as a picture of the physical condition 
of the country, as far as respects its surface and cli- 
mate, it would by no means be its due praise to say 
that it is the best and most complete that has hitherto 
appeared, because there has hitherto been no general 
description of the country in these points of view ; 
particular provinces have been described with a phi- 
losophical accuracy, which is highly honourable to 
the genius of our country, but the whole, and espe- 
cially that portion of it Avhich lies upon the Missis- 
sippi and the lakes, had not been before subjected to 
the same analysis. 

There is, perhaps, no part of this work which will 
be thought to be more inaccurately and superficially 
executed, than that which relates to yellow fever and 
the other diseases of America. By stepping into a 
circle foreign to his own, and in which his education 
and experience, notwithstanding his own opinion to 
the contrary, by no means qualified him to walk, he 
has exposed himself to much critical censure from 
professional men. On this subject, indeed, he would, 
for obvious reasons, have found it impossible to 



XXIV 

please all : but, as it is, it is much to be suspected 
that he has failed to please any. 

The merit of a work ought to he estimated, not 
onl}' by comparison with what has been already done, 
but by considering the means and situation of the au- 
thor ; and surely uncommon praise is due to Volney, 
for having produced a work so accurate and scientifi- 
cal, almost wholly from the funds of his own obser- 
vation, with so little assistance from former publica- 
tions, in relation to a country of such vast extent, 
and so much in the state of wilderness, and during 
so short a residence. Instead of reproaching him 
for the mistakes committed, w'e should grant him li- 
beral applause for the truths he has attained. 

But, while we pardon his errors, and deem them 
amply atoned for by his merits, it is a duty which we 
owe to the enlightened world, to our country, and 
even to the writer himself, to point out his mistakes. 
The present translator has not only done this, as far 
as his limited knowledge would permit, but he has 
obtained, from one or two learned and ingenious , 
friends, some additional remarks upon the text. On i 
this head he is particularly indebted to Dr. B. S, 
Barton, who has made the natural history of this part 
of America, and the manners and dialects of the abo- 
rjo-incs, the objects of great and successful study. 



XXV 

This gentleman's remarks are given in the form of 
additional notes <> 

He has taken the liberty of somewhat extending 
the quotations of his author from the work of Bernard 
Romans upon Florida, because this writer may be 
deemed almost unknown to the present age, because 
his remarks are extremely judicious, and because the 
country he speaks of is rapidly growing into an ob- 
ject of extraordinary interest and curiosity to the peo- 
ple of the United States. 

As to the manner in Avhich this translation has 
been conducted, the writer has endeavoured to give 
the meaning of his author, in the clearest, most faith- 
ful, and most distinct manner. For this purpose he 
has not thought it necessary to transfer the remarka- 
ble verbosities of his original into his own perform- 
ance. In two instances only he has more materially 
deviated from the text of his original. In detailing 
the history of Swedish and Norwegian winds, he has 
omitted the parade and incumbrance of a private let- 
ter, with which M. Volney thought proper to con- 
nect his observations on that subject, and in all ther- 
mometrical statements, he has turned the calculations 
of Reaumur into the corresponding ones of Fahren- 
heit, the latter being the only current and intelligible 

system in Great Britain and America. 

d 



CONTENTS. 



PACX 

P. I. Extent and divisions of the United States 1 

II. Face of the country - - 6 

1. General form - . 11 

1. The Atlantic country - 15 

2. The tvestern country - - 17 

3. The mountainous district - 25 

2. Interior structure - - 35 

1. Granitic region - ib, 

2. Sand stone region * - 43 

3. Calcareous region - 46 

4. Region of sea sand - - 55 

5. Alluvial region - 58 

3. Lakes that have disafijiearcd - 61 

III. Niagara and other falls m 80 

IV. Earthquakes and volcanoes - - 97 
V. Of the climate - - 102 

VI. Of the winds - - - 133 

1. Winds between north and east - 134 
1. JVorth-east wind • - 135 

2. South-east and south winds - 142 
1. South wind •. - 145 

o. South-west wind - . 147 

4. Of the gul/ih stream - - 171 

VII. Of the north-west wind m 179 



I 



XXVlll 

Chap. VIII. United States comhared with Eurojic^ as to winds, 
rain, ifc. 

1. Quantity of rain in the United States 

2. Ervafioration and dryness of the air 

3. JLlcctricity of the atmosfihrre 

IX. Lunar and solar injiucnce on the nvinds and change 

of tveathcr 

X. Prevailing diseases in the United States 

1. Catarrhs and constwiptioJis 

2. Tooth-ache and loss of teeth 
". Intermittent fevers 

4. T/ie ycllotv fever 

SUPPLEMEJVT. 

No. T. On the winds ofA'onua'j and Sweden 

II, On Florida and the work of Bernard Romans 

III. On Belknap'' s History of J\''ew Hampshire, and Williams's 
History of Vermont 

1. Belknap's History . _ - 

2. IVillianis's History 

IV. On Gallipolis, or the Scioto colony 

V. On the French colonies on the Wabash, ilfc. 
VI. On the Indians ofN'orth jimerica 
VTI. Vocabulary of the Miami language 
Additional notes - - - 



ERF A TUM. 
Page 236, line 4, for gas read a -id. 



A VIEW 



SOIL AND CLIMATE 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



CHAPTER I. 



Extent and Geographical Divisions of the U?iited States, 

We may, in loose terms, describe the United 
States as the region which occupies that part of North 
America, which is bounded on the east by the Atlan- 
tic Ocean, on the south by the Caribbean Sea and 
Mexican Gulph, on the west by the great rher of 
Louisiana, and on the north by the river of Canada, 
and the five great lakes which supply its stream. At 
a time, when the advantages of natural barriers and 
definite boundaries are so justly prized, we cannot 
doubt that the above outline, so strong and distinct, 

A 



will, sooner or later, be filled up*. At present, how- 
ever, this outline is encroached upon, southward, by 
the peninsula of East, and the maritime district of 
West Florida, and on the north-east by the English 
provinces of Lower Canada, Nova Scotia, and New 
Brunswick, which take off a large portion of the 
country contained between the river and the sea. 

Its extent, from north to south, is equal to sixteen 
degrees, it lying between the 31st and 47th degrees 
of north latitude. It stretches, east and west, up- 
wards of twenty-five degrees of longitude. The im- 
mense square which these dimensions exhibit is con- 
siderably curtailed, by the direction of the sea coast, 
which moves diagonally from north-east to south- 
west, and by the five lakes, which dip seven or eight 
degrees within these limits to the north. The real 
surface is thus diminished by more than a third. 

Hutchins is the first geographer who, after the 
peace of 1783, attempted to calculate the area of this 
territory. He makes it amount to about a million of 
English square miles. Agreeably to this statement, 
its extent is nearly fourfold that of France, before the 



* The I'ecent addition of Louisiana has carried the western 
limit far beyond the Mississippi, and embroiled it in a world of 
iinexplored deserts and thickets. This circumstance has aided 
the imagination in its excursions into futurity ; and instead of 
anticipating the extension of this empire merely to the sea on the 
south, and to the great river on the north, we may be sure that, 
in no long time, it will stretch east and west from sea to sea, and 
from the north pole to the Isthmus of Panama. — Trans. 



revolution, or that of the great peninsula comprising 
Spain and Portugal, and nearly seven times greater 
than that of Great Britain and Ireland. 

The Americans delight in comparisons of this na- 
ture ; and their vanity, suggesting golden dreams of 
the future, is very apt to measure the importance of 
foreign nations by this scale : but if we recollect that 
this space contains scarcely ^=y^ millions of inhabitants, 
of which number eight hundred thousand^ or one sixth, 
are black slaves, and that even this number is, for 
the most part, very widely and thinly scattered, we 
shall discover, in this extent of territory, nothing but 
a prolific source of present weakness and future dis- 
union. Besides, Hutchins, who was unacquainted 
with the sources of the Mississippi, and knew little 
of the regions north of the Ohio, appears to have 
computed too largely, and his estimate, though suffi- 
ciently correct for my purpose, does not deserve that 
implicit credit with which it has since been generally 
received*. 

If we compare the United States with the countries 
of the eastern hemisphere, under parallel latitudes, 
we shall find that the southern districts of the former, 
Georgia and the Carolinas, correspond with the king- 
dom of Morocco, and the whole northern coast of 
Africa : and it is somewhat remarkable, that the Mis- 

* I have seen, in Mr. Jefferson's hands, a letter from Hutchins, 
dated February 11th, 1784, which acknowledges considerable 
errors in his calculations respecting the North-west territory. 



I 



slssippi and the Nile enter the sea under nearly the 
same parallel of latitude, one at 29 and the other at 
31 degrees ; the one flowing from the north, and the 
other from the south, and bearing a striking resem- 
blance to each other, in the riches and abundance pro- 
duced by their periodical inundations. The same 
lines traverse Syria, the central provinces of Persia, 
Thibet, and the heart of China ; and nearly the same 
parallel strikes Savannah, Tripoli, Alexandria, Gaza^ 
Bosra, Ispahan, Labor, and Nankin. The northern 
states, Massachusetts and New Hampshire, corres- 
pond with southern France, middle Italy, European 
Turkey, the Euxine and Caspian Seas, and the plains 
of Tartary. The same line very nearly touches Bos- 
ton, Barcelona, Ajaccio, Rome, Constantinople, and 
Derbend. Such extensive limits indicate a great 
variety of climate, and, in truth, the United States 
displays all the extremes of the countries just enume- 
rated. We observe a gradation corresponding with 
the latitude, and proportioned particularly to the ele- 
vation of the surface. In this view, the four follow- 
ing distinguishing characters may be clearly traced : 

In the first place, the coldest climate extends over 
the eastern states, or New England. Its limits will 
be found in the southern coasts of Rhode Island and 
Connecticut, and in an inland chain of mountains, 
which divides the waters of the Delaware and Sus- 
quehannah from the streams flov/ing eastward.' 

The second division may be termed the temperate 
climate. It comprehends those called the middle 



states, tind extends through Pennsylvania and Mary- 
land to the banks of the Potowmack, or, more accu- 
rately, to those of the Patapsco. 

The third, or the hot climate, will comprise the 
southern states, or the plains of Virginia, the two 
Carolinas, and Georgia, as far as Florida. 

The fourth is the climate of the ivestern country, of 
Tenessee, Kentucky, the Mississippi and North- wes- 
tefn territories*. These are situated behind the great 
chain of the Allegheny, and westward of the states 
before- mentioned, and are hotter, as I shall hereafter 
show, by three degrees of latitude, than the countries 
eastward of that mountain. 

* The North-western territory has been lately erected into the 
state of Ohio. — Trans. 



CHAPTER II. 



Face of the Country,. 

TO a traveller from Europe, and especially to 
one accustomed, as I had been, to the naked plains 
of Egypt, Asia, and the coasts of the Mediterranean, 
the most striking feature of America is the rugged 
and dreary prospect of an almost universal forest. 
This forest is first discerned on the coast, but 
continues thickening and enlarging from thence to 
the heart of the country. During a long journey, 
which I made in 1796, from the mouth of Delaware, 
through Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and Ken- 
tucky, to the Wabash, and thence northward, across 
the North-west territory, to Detroit, through Lake 
Erie to Niagara and Albany ; and, in the following 
year, from Boston to Richmond, in Virginia, I scarcely 
passed, for three miles together, through a track of 
unwopded or cleared land. 

I always found the roads, or rather the paths, bor- 
dered and obscured by copse or forest, whose silence, 
uniformity, and stillness was wearisome. The 
ground beneath it was sterile and rough, or encumber- 



ed with the fallen and decaying trunks of ancient trees. 
Clouds of gnats, mosquitoes, and flies hovered be- 
neath the shade, and continually infested my peace. 
Such is the real state of these Elysian fields, of which, 
in the bosom of European cities, romancers entertain 
us with their charming dreams. On the sea coast 
there are, however, many open spaces, which the pro- 
gress of cultivation and the vast consumption of fuel 
in the cities have occasioned. There are likewise 
considerable openings in the western regions especi- 
ally between the Wabash and the Mississippi, on the 
banks of Lake Erie, and those of St. Laurence, in 
Tenessee and Kentucky, where the nature of the 
soil, or, more frequently, the annual or ancient con- 
flagrations of the Indians, have opened vast deserts, 
called savannahs by the Spaniards, and prairies by the 
Canadians. These bear no resemblance to the arid 
plains of Arabia and Syria, but remind us rather of 
the steps or grassy wastes of Tartary and Russia. 
The prairies may be described as steps^ covered with 
ligneous plants, growing very thick, and to the 
height of three or four feet. They display, in spring 
and autumn, a lively carpet of verdure and flowers, 
and such a scene is very rarely to be met with in the 
dry or stony plains of Arabia. In the rest of the 
country, especially among the inland mountains, trees 
are found in such numbers, and their prevalence is so 
little checked and circumscribed, that the United 
States, compared with such a country as France, may 
justly be denominated one vast forest. 



If we subject this immense wilderness to a single 
comprehensive view, we shall be led to divide it into 
three regions or districts, ^ach of which is distin- 
guished from the rest by the nature of the timber it 
produces. The kind of tree, as the American ob- 
serves, indicates the nature of the soil it grows upon. 

The first of these districts I shall call the southern 
forest. It embraces the maritime parts of Virginia, 
the two Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida, and may be 
generally described as extending from the bay of 
Chesapeake to the river St. Mary, over a gravelly and 
sandy soil, spreading from a hundred to a hundred 
and fifty miles wide. All this space is thickly planted 
with the pine, fir, larch, cedar, cypress, and other re- 
sinous trees. It presents a scene of perpetual verdure^ 
which, however, is only a cover for sterility, except 
in those spots which the course of rivers and alluvial 
depositions have fertilized, and which cultivation has 
made abundantly productive. 

The middle forest comprehends the hilly parts of 
Carolina and Virginia, all Pennsylvania, the southern 
part of New York, all Kentucky, and the country 
north of the Ohio, as far as the Wabash. This 
whole extent is covered with the oak, ash, maple, 
hiccory, sycamore, acacia, mulberry, plum, birch, 
sassafras, and poplar. In the western part are found 
the cherry, horse chesnut, the sumac. Sec. and all the 
kinds that indicate a rich soil, the only basis of the 
prosperity of this portion of the states. The resinous 
trees are mingled, in the plains and vallies, with those 



just mentioned, and form entire woods upon the 
mountains. They are met with in the chain called, 
in Virginia, the south-'west, but, contrary to usual ap- 
pearances, they here cover a red, deep, and fat soil. 

The third district, or the northern forest^ is like- 
wise composed of the fir, pine, larch, cedar, and cy- 
press. It spreads itself over the western parts of 
New York, and the inland countries of New England; 
exclusive, however, of the mter-i}ales and banks of 
rivers. It advances northw^ard into Canada, and is 
lost at last among the deserts of the polar circle, where 
the trees dwindle down into thinly scattered junipers 
and other hardy plants, of stinted growth and scanty 
product. 

Such is the general aspect of the territor)^ of these 
states. The picture is composed of an almost univer- 
sal forest, varied and broken by five vast lakes, or inland 
seas, in the north; by immense natural meadows, or 
prairies^ in the west; and in the centre by a chain of 
mountains, whose ridges are parallel to the sea coast, 
at the distance of from fifty to a hundred and fifty 
miles, and which turn, to the east and west, rivers of a 
longer course, wider channel, and more ample stream, 
than we are accustomed to meet with in Europe*. 
These rivers are broken into cataracts, from twenty to 

* M. Volney probably limits this comparison, in his own mind, 
to France or Britain, for the German, Polish, and Russian rivers 
fall not short of ours, in any of these circumstances. The Ame- 
rican reader may listen with less dissatisfaction to our author's 
idea of an universal forest, when he is reminded that our present 

B 



10 

one hundred and forty feet in height, and enter the sea 
in mouths that expand into gulphs. In the southern 
regions, the bogs or swamps extend above three hun- 
dred miles. In the north, the snows lie on the ground 
four or five months in the year. One one side, in a 
course of nine hundred miles, are scattered ten or 
twelve towns, built entirely of brick, or of painted 
wood, and containing from ten to sixty thousand 
souls. Without the cities are scattered farm- 
houses, built of unhewn logs, surrounded with a few 
small fields of wheat, tobacco, or maize, that are still 
encumbered with the half burnt stocks of trees, and 
are divided by branches laid across each other, by 
way of fence*. These rude dwellings and fields are 

population consumes and exports the product of less than one ffd- 
eih of the whole surface, and^?/??/ acres of woodland would hardly 
be lessened to the eye, by cutting down one acre only. This di- 
minution would be still less apparent, if the acre of wood thus 
removed were not one entire acre, but made up of trees scattered 
irregularly through the whole mass ; but this has been pretty 
much the case in the settlement of North America. By an eye 
that could view the whole territory at a single glance, nothing 
would be seen h\\\. ?i boundless contiguity of shade. Very different, 
however, would be the face of things partially seen — Trans. 

* Those who are not enabled, by their own observation and 
experience, to qualify this general representation, will be led by 
it into great errors. In traversing New England, Jersey, and the 
eastern parts of Pennsylvania and Virginia, the scene is widely 
different from that above described. The picture is fully realized 
in those quarters only which are newly settled, and where at- 
tempts have just been commenced for reclaiming the wilderness. 
'—-Trans. ' 



11 

embosomed in the depth of the forest, and diminish 
in number and extent, as you advance inland, till 
they appear, from neighbouring heights, like little 
squares of brown or yellow, on an immeasurable 
ground of deep green. The atmosphere is, by turns, 
very dry or very moist, very hot or very cold, very 
turbulent or very still ; so capricious, that the same 
day will freeze with the colds of Norway, scorch with 
the ardours of Africa, and present to you, in swift 
succession, all the four seasons of the year. This is 
a concise but faithful picture of the United States. 



THE GENERAL FORM. 

To afford an accurate knowledge of the struc- 
ture of this vast country, it will be necessary to des- 
cribe more particularly the great chain of mountains 
which forms its principal feature. This chain begins 
in Lower Canada, on the southern shore of St. Lau- 
rence, near its mouth, where its points are called by 
sailors the hills de Notre Dame^ and de la Magdeleine. 
Tending south-west, it recedes by degrees from this 
river, and dividing the streams which flow north-west 
into that river from those which run south-east, 
through Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Maine, 
into the sea, it forms the frontier of the United States 
till it enters New Hampshire. It then stretches 
southward through Vermont, and assumes the appel- 
lation of the Green Mountain, dividing the streams 



12 

which feed Connecticut river from those which fall 
into Lakes George and Champlain ; and, after shoot- 
ing out a great number of branches, which surround 
the sources of the Hudson, it crosses that river at 
West Point, forming, with its abrupt points, what are 
called the Highlands. Here the chain may be said to 
suffer a double interruption, either because the waters 
have broken it, or because its substance, which had 
hitherto been granite, becomes grit stone. The head 
of this elongation ascends the western bank of the river 
to the Katskill, and constitutes those summits which 
form the sources of the Delaware. Hence proceeds 
a number of ridges, vidiich, after blending with the 
chain before-mentioned, traverse, in a south-western 
direction, New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and 
Virginia, continually receding from the sea as they 
proceed southward. It is very remarkable, that these 
ridges strike the course of the Atlantic rivers at 
right angles, the streams rushing through them at 
gaps or breaks, which have been evidently made by 
the force of their waters. These ridges, hitherto 
parallel to each other, re-unite, on the frontier of 
Virginia and North Carolina, into a grand chain called 
the Boii) of the Allegheny^ because this chain, taking 
here a bend to the east, intercepts and absorbs all the 
collateral and secondary ridges. Somewhat farther 
south, all the western ridges coalesce with this prin- 
cipal one, and form the series of summits from which 
the Great Kenhawah and the Holdston on the west, 
and the Pedee, Santee, and all the Carolinian rivers 



13 

on the east, take their rise. From this knot is de- 
tached, towards the west, a branch, which, by its first 
bifurcation north-west, supplies thenumerousbranches 
of Kentucky, and by a second, due west, it ranges, 
under the name of the Cumberland Mountain, through 
Tenessee, where it interposes between the Cumber- 
land and Tenessee rivers, as far as their intersection 
with the Ohio: while the grand chain of the Alleg- 
heny, almost solitary, continues its course south-west, 
and forms the boundary of Georgia and the two Ca- 
rolinas, where it passes under the various names of 
White Oak, Great Iron, Bald Mountain, and Blue 
Mountain, Touching the angle of Georgia, it changes 
its name and its direction, and, imder the denomina- 
tions of Apalachi and Cherokee, it tends due west to 
the Mississippi, pouring from its northern side the 
streams belonging to the Tenessee, and from the op- 
posite steeps those that traverse Florida to the Gulph 
of Mexico. 

The length of this chain occasioned the northern 
Indians to bestow on it the name of the Endless 
Mountain. The French and Spaniards, who first 
approached it on the side of Florida, called it the Apa- 
lachi, which was the name of a savage tribe, and 
is also given to a large river in this quarter. The 
English and American geographers, who became first 
acquainted with it on the north, have invariably called 
it the Allegheny. This is an Indian term, which, 
according to Evans, signifies endless; and though less 
sonorous and agreeable than Apalachi, has oblained 



14 

universal currency. For the sake of perspicuity, how- 
ever, I have called, by the latter name, that branch 
which strikes the north-west angle of Georgia, and 
which, less steep and lofty than the rest, spreads it- 
self in innumerable hills over all the country bounded 
by the Mississippi. It terminates, on this river, 
in abrupt points, or cliffs^ and extend from Natchez 
to the mouth of the Ohio. They never intersect the 
Mississippi, whose opposite shore is a marsh, whose 
medial breadth is about sixty miles, and which occu- 
pies the right bank for a distance of four hundred 
aad twenty miles, from the mouth of the Ohio to the 
sea. Here the great continental forest ends, and the 
steps or savannahs begin, which stretch westward to 
the foot of the hills north of Mexico, and of the stony 
mountains, the last of which I call, in this work, the 
Cliippaway chain, from an Indian tribe which occu- 
pies these regions. 

From this survey, it appears that this territory 
is distributed, by nature, into three grand divisions, 
parallel to each other, and corresponding, in their 
longest extent, with the direction of the sea coast, 
which ranges from north-east to south-west. 

The first of these is the eastern country, placed 
between the sea and the mountains. 

The second is the western country, situated be- 
tween the mountains and the Mississippi. 

The third district is the mountainous region itself, 
which is spread out between the two former ones. 
As each of these have striking peculiai'ities of soil and 



15 

climate, it will be proper to bestow separate attention 
upon each. 



THE ATLANTIC COUNTRY. 

The Atlantic country, so named from the ocean 
which washes its eastern boundary, and to which all its 
rivers are conducted, extends from Canada to Florida, 
over a breadth which varies from sixty to two hundred 
miles. It is the original scat of the nation, and the 
residence of the largest portion of its population. Its 
political divisions are arranged in the following order, 
beginning at the southern extremity : 

Georgia, South Carolina, Nordi Carolina, Virgi- 
nia, Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, 
New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachu- 
setts, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Maine. 

Through all this extent, the surface is elevated 
slightly above the sea ; more uniform and fiat in the 
countries south of Maryland, and even as far north 
as New Jersey, but various, unequal, and occasion- 
ally hilly, in the northern parts, particularly Connec- 
ticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts. Long Island 
may be considered as the line of division between 
these two kinds of surface, for the coast northward 
of this isle, as far as the river St. Croix, and even to 
the mouth of the St. Laurence, is high, rocky, and 
covered with plants, which partake of the nature of 
those of the interior country ; "vi hereas, proceeding 



16 

southward from this island, we meet with nothing but 
a flat of pure sand, almost level with the ocean. This 
sand has evidently been left by the sea, and is traced 
to a considerable distance inland. It forms the basis 
of a forest of pines and firs, and other resinous trees. 
As we approach the mountains, we meet with a 
mixture of clay and gravel, which the waters have 
washed from the neighbouring heights, and thus is 
formed a yellowish, poor, light soil, which prevails 
throughout the middle sehage of the southern states. 
These lineaments are so clearly traced, that we can- 
not hesitate in considering Maryland, Pennsylvania, 
and New Jersey as gradually formed by the deposi- 
tions of the Potowmack, Susquehannah, Delaware, 
and Hudson. Farther north, especially in Rhode 
Island, Connecticut, and Massachusetts, we meet 
with a continual succession of hills and dales, and the 
country is broken up into steeps and hollows. This 
region appears, indeed, to be a continuation of the 
before-mentioned mountainous border, if the confu- 
sion of its ridges, and their granitic structure, did not 
clearly distinguish them from the Allegheny, whose 
basis is composed of grit stone, and which moves in a 
more westerly direction, and at a greater distance 
from the sea. 



17 



THE WESTERN COUNTRY, OR VALLEY OF THE 
MISSISSIPPI. 

The second region, situate westward of the Alleg- 
heny, may be termed the valley of the Mississippi, 
because all the streams which traverse it are ultimately 
lost in that river, and, of consequence, must flow upon 
a plane, every where, and upon the whole, inclining 
towards its channel. This valley, or rather slope of 
a valley, is bounded eastward by the Allegheny, 
northward by the Lakes Michigan, Erie, and Onta- 
rio, and southward by the Floridas. The lands of 
western Georgia, however, pouring their streams into 
the Gulph of Mexico, form a distinct district; but 
the comparatively small extent of this district, and the 
uniformity of climate, soil, natural productions, and 
probable destiny, will justify us in classing with 
the Mississippi valley all the country west of the 
Apalachi. This river may be named as the interior 
limit of the maritime region, towards the south-west. 
The valley of the Mississippi comprehends wes- 
tern Georgia, Tenessee, Kentucky, the Mississippi 
and North-Ohio territories, and some western districts 
of Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York. The peo- 
ple of the maritime provinces are accustomed to dis- 
tinguish this space by the names of the back country, 
the back woodsy the wilderness, and, more fancifully, 
the vjestern %vaters. The phrase back country is used 
by them relatively to their own situation with regard 

c 



18 

to Europe, the great object and centre of all their 
£ thoughts, interests, and speculations. I had scarcely- 
passed the Allegheny, when I heard this phrase ap- 
plied, by the dwellers on the Great Kenhawah and 
Ohio, to the maritime country. This is a striking 
proof that these people have already derived, from 
their geographical situation, new and peculiar views 
and interests; that all their thoughts tend, like the 
great thoroughfares, their rivers, to the. Gulph of 
Mexico, and thence to the West Indies, which is the 
great point of mercantile attraction in America*. 

This valley, on a closer examination, will be found 
to distribute itself, according to the nature of the soil, 
and the course of mountains and rivers, into three 
grand districts. The first of these is situated south 
of the Apalachi Hills, that forms the Tenessee valley : 
from this ridge spring the rivers that flow through it 
to the Gulph of Mexico and the lower Mississippi. 
This region is distinguished by a flat, sandy , and sterile 
coast ; by marshes which advance far into the coun- 
try, and which are particularly rich and fertile on the 
banks of rivers, where maize and rice flourish greatly. 
A stone, of two or three pounds weight, is here 
scarcely to be found, for thirty or forty Tniles from 
the coast. As you recede from the coast, the surface 

* M. Volncy draws large inferences from a trivial circumstance. 
The disjunction and opposite direction of the interests of the two 
great divisions of the empire, together with its causes, are obvious 
enough, but have little connection with the terms above-mentioned, 
which are purely geographical. — Trans. 



19 

begins to ascend, and to become uneven and irregU" 
lar; the soil becomes stony, and its fertility greatly 
declines, as is evident from the nature of the forest 
trees. It abounds with the ilex^ pine, fir, black and 
white oak, magnolia, red and white cedar, cypress, 
and innumerable shrubs, natives of the warm climates. 
Bartram, an American traveller and botanist, draws 
a very glowing picture of this country, of which he 
has made a terrestrial paradise : but, without regard- 
ing his exaggerated and poetical descriptions, it will 
be sufficient to compare it generally with Portugal 
and the coast of Barbary, in which comparison it has 
certainly much the advantage. 

The second district is bounded, south, by the Te- 
nessee river, north by the Ohio, east by the Alleg- 
heny, and westward by the Mississippi. It comprises 
the states of Kentucky and Tenessee, which were 
formed in 1796. This country is covered with 
woods, and rugged with innumerable hills. The 
Cumberland ridge, about thirty miles in breadth, 
runs through it from east to west, dividing the river 
of that name from the Tenessee. In its vallies knd 
plains, the soil is of an excellent quality, being a rich, 
black, vegetable earth, from three to five feet in depth, 
and of inexhaustible fertility. Its trees are far more 
lofty and gigantic than those in the maritime district. 
The red, black, and white oak, hiccories of several 
species, the tulip-bearing poplar, the vine, climbing 
to a height of tv/enty or thirty feet, the ash, sugar 
maple, accacia, sycamore fxvesternplaiiej^ horse clies- 



20 

nut, gum, pine, cedar, sumac, plum, parsimon, and 
cherry trees, some of which are five feet in diameter. 
The light and friable soil occasions an appearance 
in the brooks and rivers, which I had previously met 
with in Syria, and even in France, but never to so 
great an extent. We continually observe, through- 
out Kentucky and Tenessee, pits or funnels, from 
fifty to five hundred paces wide, and from fifteen to 
fifty in depth, having at the bottom one or more holes 
or chasms, in which are swallowed up not only the 
rainy torrents from the neighbouring heights, but 
even considerable brooks and rivers. They suddenly 
disappear among the bushes, frpm the eyes of the mar- 
velling traveller, and pursue their course unseen, 
through subterranean channels. The rivers, in their 
visible course, generally groove and hollow out their 
channels, till they find a bottom of calcareous rock', 
which forms a kind of horizontal flooring. Hence it 
is that most of the streams of Kentucky and Tenes- 
see flow in a kind of trench, formed by two shai'p and 
steep banks, of the height of fifty feet, like those of 
the Ohio, or four hundred feet like those of the Ken- 
tucky river at Dixon's point : hence, likewise, it hap- 
pens, that the country abounds with dark and deep 
hollows and glens, where it is not traversed by lateral 
branches of the Allegheny, distinguished by their 
rapid slopes, and the narrowness of their summits* r 

* It is on these summits, however narrow, that the Indians, 
Sind after them the Americans, have traced their paths or roads. 



21 

and hence, likewise, it happens, that the soil can 
never be improved by irrigation. The people ah'eady 
begin to complain of an aridity, which keeps pace 
with the clearing of the country, and completely dis- 
sipates the fond allusions of travellers and land spe- 
culators. 

It is commonly believed, in Kentucky, that the 
springs have become more abundant, since the woods 
around them have been removed. I have examined 
the truth of this representation on the spot, and endea- 
voured to ascertain the true cause of this appearance. 
It seems to me to be owing to the ancient accumula- 
tion of leaves upon the surface of the earth, raising 
gradually a deep and compact bed, such as we now 
meet under the shade of forests which still subsist, by 
which the rain and dews have been retained long 
enough to evaporate, without sinking into the earth. 
Since this bed has been destroyed, and the ground 
opened by culture, the water easily sinks below the 
surface, and forms more durable and more abundant 
reservoirs. It is nevertheless true, that the moisture 
of the atmosphere, and the copiousness of spring's in 
general, are diminished, especially upon the higher 
grounds, by the destruction of the woods, by which 
the condensation of the vapours is lessened or pre- 

One of the most stiikliig specimens of this kind of road is to be 
found on the Gaulcy ridge, among the Kenhawah Mountains. 
This ridge is not fifteen feet broad in the course of a mile, while 
there is a perpendicular descent on either side of six or seven hun- 
dred feet. *^ 



22 

vented. Kentucky itself, as v, cU as the other states, 
continually affords proof of this, in a multitude of 
brooks, which have not been drained within five 
years, but which are in want of water every summer. 
Many of them have wholly disappeared, and several 
mills, in New Jersey, have been abandoned on this 
account*. 

Another remarkable appearance in America re- 
quires explanation. We never enter the forest with- 
out meeting with fallen trees, the roots of which ex- 
hibit a mass of fibres, in shape somewhat resembling 
a mushroom. These fibres appear not to have pierced 
to a greater depth than eighteen inches, in trees 
seventy feet in length. That these roots descend no 
deeper, has probably happened that they might profit 
by the moisture at the surface, and the rich mould 
formed by decayed leaves, a substance more conge- 
nial to their growth than the sub-stratum, which re- 
mains dry, and is consequently less penetrable. And 
now that this mode of vegetation has been nurtured 
and gradually fixed by the lapse of ages, as long a 
series of ages will be requisite to change or new mo- 
dify it. 

The third district is bounded southw^ard by the 
Ohio, by the great lakes on the north, and on the east 
and west by the Allegheny Mountain and the Missis- 

* We may also add, that formerly the waters were stagnated 
by the trunks of fallen trees, and by weetls : the reraovai of these 
haS)'. of eourse, ailbrded a passage to the stream. 



23 

sippi respectively. This region, called the North- 
western territory, in consequence of its slender popu- 
lation has not yet been erected into a state*. The 
surface is either plain, or composed of p;entle inequa- 
lities and undulations. It would be difficult to meet 
with a hill five hundred feet high; and the western 
parts of it, between the Wabash and the Mississippi, 
are little else than immense fiats or natural meadows. 
Regular as this surface is, it still inclines in such a 
manner as to give opposite directions to the course 
of great and numerous rivers ; some of which flow, 
by the Mississippi, into the Gulph of Mexico, others 
into the north Atlantic, by the St. Laurence, and 
others, lower down, into the same great reservoir, by 
the Mohawk, Hudson, and Susquehannah. Hence 
it appears, that the Allegheny, from which the latter 
streams originate, forms a kind of rampart to this vast 
undulating surface, which is nearly on a level with its 
summit. The surface, in general, is so slightly in- 
clined, that the rivers descend slowly and circuitously, 
and frequently stagnate into swamps, and when swelled 
by winter rains, the sources are connected so as to 
be navigable in canoes. Such is the case betv/een 
the Wabash, which enters the Ohio, the Miami, 
which falls into Lake Erie, the Huron, which mingles 
with the lake of the same name, and the Great rhej\ 
which enters Lake Michigan, and many others. 

* At the time of our authcv'i writincr. — Tran-s, 



24 

These rivers, different in this respect from those of 
Kentucky, flow over an earthen bed ; and this arises 
not only from the general equality of surface, and 
consequent tardiness of the current, but from the ar- 
gillaceous or clayey nature of the soil, which their 
waters cannot disjoint or penetrate. This circum- 
stance will hereafter be favourable to commerce and 
agriculture, and popular opinion has already mani- 
fested a preference for this district over Kentucky. 
It will, doubtless, prove hereafter the Flanders of 
America, and bear away the prize equally for pasture 
and tillage. In 1796, I saw, on the banks of the Great 
Scioto, a field that had just been cleared, which pro- 
duced maize fourteen feet in height, and of propor- 
tionable thickness. At this period, if we except a 
few scattered dwellings, all beyond the Muskingum 
was a wild wilderness of trees, swamps, and fevers. I 
traversed one hundred and twenty miles of this forest, 
from Louisville, near the rapids of Ohio, to Vin- 
cennes, on the Wabash, without lighting on a hut, 
and, what surprised me still more, without hearing 
the voice of a bird, though in the month of July. 
This forest ends just before you reach the Wabash, 
and from thence to the Mississippi, a distance of 
eighty miles, all is prairie or meadow. Here com- 
mences the American Tartary, bearing, in all respects, 
a strong resemblance to the Asiatic. Though warm 
and sultry in the southern quarter, the air becomes 
ehill, and the soil unkindly, as you go northward. Be. 



25 

yond the 48th degree of north latitude, the waters arc 
frozen six months in the year, the ground is over- 
shadowed by deep m oods, or drowned in swamps, 
and intersected by rivers, which, in a course of three 
thousand miles, have not fifty miles of interruption 
or portages. In all these features, we recognize a 
likeness to the ancient Tartary, which would be en- 
tire and complete, could we see its natives metamor- 
phosed into horsemen. This transformation has, 
within the last twenty-five or thirty years, taken place, 
in some degree, among the Nehesawey or Noudowes- 
sey Indians, who are mounted upon Spanish horses, 
stolen in the plains north of Mexico. In half a cen- 
tury, these New Tartars will probably become for- 
midable neighbours to the people of the United States, 
and the settlers beyond the Mississippi will encounter 
difficulties totally unknown to their ancestors. 



THE MOUNTAINOUS DISTRICT. 

The tjiird grand division is formed by the moun- 
tains, which stretch from the mouth of the St. Lau- 
reiice to the frontier of Georgia, disparting the eastern 
and western waters, and forming a lofty terrace or 
rampart between the Atlantic and the Mississippi, the 
maritime and the fluvial districts. The length of this 
belt or band may be computed at twelve hundred 
miles, and its breadth, which varies much, at from 
ninety to one hundred and fifty miles. 



26 

This region, though comparatively narrow, modi- 
fies, in a considerable degree, the temperature of the 
adjacent districts, from both of which it widely differs, 
in climate, soil, and products. Towards the south, 
the air is purer and dryer, more elastic and salubrious; 
towards the north, and beginning near the Potow- 
mack, cold and moisture begin to prevail, the animals 
are larger and more active, and the forest abounds 
with trees, not so large as those of the western woods, 
but superior to those of the east, and surpassing both 
in elasticity. 

This chain of mountains differs from those of Eu- 
rope in the greater length and regularity of their 
ridges, but are much inferior in elevation to the Alps 
and Pyrenees. The measurements, which I was en- 
abled to make, in various situations, and with great 
accuracy, will illustrate this point. Otter Peak, in 
Virginia, the loftiest point in this country, does not 
exceed 4000 English feet. In the same district, Jo- 
nathan Williams, proceeding from the spot where the 
tide ends above Richmond, and measuring the road 
to the first chain or Blue Ridge, found the height at 
Rock-fish Gap to be 1150 feet. A summit near this 
has been ascertained to rise near 1900 feet. Farther 
onward, near Staunton, in Virginia, he ascended a 
ridge of the Allegheny, 1898 feet in height. A se- 
cond chain, called the Calf Pasture, was 2247 feet in 
height. A third , ridge, that which separates the 
waters, six miles south-west of Red Spring, measured 
2706 feet. 



27 

In Maryland, the following heights have been de* 
termined, in 1789, by George Gilpin and James 
Smith : 

On the river Potowmack, from the rapids at George- 
town, where the tide ends, to the mouth of Savage 
river, in a course of two hundred and eighty English 
miles, the level is 1160 feet, in this estimate, the 
rapids are stated at 37 feet, and the Matilda cataract 
at 76 feet, including the rapids which extend three 
miles above. 

From the mouth of Savage river to a place called 
Moses Williams, on the summit of the Allegheny, in 
a length of eight miles and three quarters, the level 
is 2097 feet. The whole height, therefore, from the 
level of the tide in Potowmack, is 3257 feet. The 
Allegheny, which I myself have traversed at this 
place, and where the elevation appears to be the 
greatest, does not rise more than 2430 feet above the 
ocean. The Blue Ridge, at Harper's ferry, at the 
mouth of the Shenandoah river, appears to be nearly 
of the same height as at Rock-fish Gap, so that the 
medial elevation may be computed at 1165 feet, 
which is less than half the height of the Allegheny in 
Virginia. The height of this mountain in Pennsyl- 
vania, above the plain below, is, according to Dr. 
Rush, about 1300 feet. Travellers, indeed, remark, 
that they reach the summit by gradual and almost 
imperceptible ascents. In New York state the high- 
est point of the Katskill was found, by Mr. Peter de 
la Begarre, to be 3549 feet abo\e the surface of the 



28 

Hudson, ill which the tide extends to within a few 
miles of Albany. 

In Vermont, the highest part of the chain is Kil- 
I'mgton Peak, and which was determined, by Samuel 
Williams, to be 3454 feet in height. 

The White Mountains, in New Hampshire, visible 
at sea at the distance of thirty leagues, were estimated 
by Dr. Belknap to be 10,000 feet in height, but, by 
Mr. Williams' calculation, their elevation does not 
exceed 7800 feet. 

The chain of the Allegheny can therefore be merely 
considered as a mound or rampart, whose height, at 
a medium, is 2000 or 2500 feet ; and differing, in 
this respect, widely from the other great ridges of the 
globe. The Alps have been estimated at 10,000 
feet, the Pyrenees at 7500, the Andes at 15,000, 
and Libanus at 9500. Hence it may be easily per- 
ceived, how much influence this mountain must pos- 
sess over the atmosphere of the United States, and of 
the whole continent of North America ; an influence 
Xvhich I shall hereafter more fully explain. 

All European travellers have been struck, in sur- 
veying the American mountains, with the regularity 
of their course, the continuit}'^ of their ridges, and, in 
the line formed by their summits, with a much slighter 
undulation than the mountains of our hemisphere 
exhibit. This peculiarity is particularly observable 
in Virginia and Maryland, in the Blue Ridge. This 
ridge, which I traversed from the frontier of Penn- 
sylvania to James River, every v^here presents to our 



29 

view a terrace, 1000 or 1200 feet in height above the 
plain at its feet, with a very steep side, and a sum- 
mit that can scarcely be said to undulate at all, and 
with occasional gaps or breaks. The mountain rises 
from a basis from five to six miles broad. In going- 
north, this summit lowers, as well as that of the 
parallel ridges ; and as some confusion of names has 
arisen in Pennsylvania from its bifurcations, I shall 
endeavour to determine them with accuracy. 

We clearly distinguish, in Virginia, three principal 
ridges : which are — 

1. The Blue Ridge ^ situated eastward, which takes 
its name from its bluish appearance, when viewed at 
a distance, from the plains. Evans and some others 
call it, without any good reason, the South Mountain. 
The names of mountains, indeed, in the United 
States, have been generally conferred by the colo- 
nists at random, and as mere caprice directed. The 
Blue Ridge is detached from the great bow or knot 
of tlie Allegheny. It is the immediate elongation of 
this chain, in coming from the south. It crosses 
James River above the junction of its two higher 
ridges, the Potowmack above the Shenandoah, the 
Susquehannah above Harrisburg ; and the latter river 
is observed to be thus far navigable, fiov\ ing over a 
calcareous bottom, but it is here made impassable by 
the sand stone rocks of the Allegheny. In Penn- 
sylvania, this ridge becomes less continuous and less 
lofty, and is known by the various names of the 
Trent, Flying, and Olcy hills, but it isi^lhe same 



30 

chain which crosses the Schuylkill at Reading, and 
the Delaware above its bifurcation near Easton, and 
from thence it proceeds till lost in the groupe of the 
Katskill, near the banks of the Hudspn.. 

The second chain, called North Mountain, with as 
little reason as the former is denominated the South, 
detaches itself also from the great bonu of the AUeg- 
heney, and holding a course westward, but parallel 
to the former, traverses the higher branches of James 
River, ten or twelve miles above their junction ; the 
Potowmack, twenty-four miles above the Shenan- 
doah ; but when it touches the western branches of 
the Great Comiegochicgiie^ it divides itself into several 
branches, and its subsequent course is not easily 
traced. Some geographers discover this ridge in 
the Tuscorora Mountains, which, after having traver- 
sed the Juniata, is lost among the swampy and rocky 
deserts, north-west of Susquehannah. Others trace 
the North Mountain in the Kittatinni, which moves 
parallel to the Blue Ridge, and proceeds to the Dela- 
ware, which it crosses above its south-west branch, and 
to Nazareth, after which it forms the eastern bank of 
that river, till it terminates, like tlie Blue Ridge, in 
the groupe of the Katskill, and the hills which divide 
the fountains of the Delaware from the course of the 
Hudson. 

In Pennsylvania, the Blue Ridge is usually con- 
founded with the North Mountain, because their fea- 
tures are pretty much the sam'e. Each disi'rict 
applied the term blue to the highest summits, and 



31 

bestow peculiar and various names on the lesser 
branches, but the geographical connection of the 
North Mountain by the Kittatinni, and of the Blue 
Ridge by the Oley and Flying Hills ^ appears to me to 
be well established by the similarity of their sub- 
stance, and their concurring to form a calcareous 
valley, which runs uninterruptedly between them, 
from the Delaware and the neighbourhood of Easton 
and Nazareth, to the sources of the Shenandoah, near 
Staunton. 

The third principal chain*, or the Allegheny, 
properly so called, is the westermost and loftiest 
ridge, by which the waters are uniformly divided, 
and which, not being broken into gaps, by any river, 

* It is not without a careful examination of this point that I 
have deviated from Arrowsmith's example, vi^ho, totally neglecting^ 
the Oley Hill and Flying Hill, confounds, above Harrisburg, the 
Blue Ridge with the Kittatinni. This compiler may have been 
influenced by travellers, who, in their turn, were misled by the 
opinion popular in the country, and by the name of Blue Ridge, 
given by the people of some districts to the Kittatinni. Besides 
the authority of Evans, Fry, and Jefferson, which is certainly con- 
clusive, I have also examined for myself. In traversing the Sus- 
quehannah, in the road from York to Lancaster, I surveyed a 
chain, a mile behind Columbia, which is plainly a continuation 
of tlie Blue Ridge, which had run, at a greater or less distance, 
on the vt'est of my course. This chain, equally high on both sides 
of the river, leaves only a narrow passage for its current, which 
foams over a sloping and rugged bottom. This passage has evi- 
dently been forced by the river, as that of the Potowmack at Har- 
per's ferry. It continues its course north-west, over a bottom 
which, behind Columbia, is calcareous. 



32 

justi}' merits the appellation of the ^wc/Zf^^ Mountain. 
Beginning at the southern extremity, we see it com- 
mence its long career at the corner of South Carolina 
and Georgia, under the various names of White Oak, 
Great Iron, Bald, and Blue Mountain. It there 
turns to the west some branches of the Tenessee, 
and to the east the rivers of Carolina, whose western 
limit is formed by it. Having reached Virginia, it 
forms the bend before-mentioned towards the north- 
west, and enfolds the ridges already described. It 
then renev.s its course north-north-west, pouring 
on one side the Monongahela and Great Kenhawah 
into the Ohio, on the other side the James River, the 
Potowmack, the Susquehannah, and many others, 
into the Atlantic Ocean. Towards the sources of 
the western branch of the Susquehannah, it diverges 
into several branches, the largest of which proceeds 
eastw ard, and traverses all the waters of that river, 
terminating in Katskill, near the sources of the De- 
laware. The eastern branches enfold the sources of 
the Susquehannah itself, or supply the Iroquois and 
Genessee lakes and rivers : unless indeed we trace 
their branches to a ridge more westerly, called the 
Gauley, the Laurel, or the Chesnut Ridge, •^vhich also 
terminates in this quarter. 

Besides the three principal chains in Virginia, 
which I have just described, there are many inter- 
mediate ridges, equalling them in height, steepness, 
and continuity. Such are the Calf-pasture, the Cow- 
pasture, and Jackson, all which I passed in going from 



33 

Staunton to Green-briar. Among the latter are found 
those hot springs, famous in Virginia for their sana- 
tive qualities, and distinguished by the names of 
JVarm Spring, whose temperature is mild ; Hot 
Spring, whose temperature is higher; and Red 
Spri7ig, Warm Spring, which I have examined, is 
of an ammoniacal sulphureous nature, whose heat is 20 
degrees of Reamur. It rises at the bottom of a deep 
valley, shaped like a funnel, and easily perceived to 
be the crater of an extinguished volcano. 

West of the Allegheny, towards the liale of the 
Ohio, there are many remarkable hills. The first of 
these, called Reynick, and the High Ballantines, 
eight miles west of Green Briar, appears to me as 
lofty, though not so broad as the Blue Ridge. From 
this height may be discovered, in the south-west and 
north-east, a crowd of other hills. Fifteen miles fur- 
ther, by a winding road, I passed over eight or ten 
ridges, which continued for thirty-eight miles, till I 
reached the Gauley Ridge, which is the loftiest, the 
steepest, and the narrowest, at the summit, of them 
all. I regard this whole extent as a single elevated 
platform. Besides the Gauley Ridge, we meet with 
no heights but such as regulate the course, and some- 
times constitute the bed of rivers, but I observed that 
the channel of the Great Kenhaway often made a cir- 
I cuit through a country more rugged than any I ever 
met with. Most of these ridges tend towards the 
Ohio, and some of them ma}'^ be suspected to cross 
it. The Gauley Ridge originates among the foun- 

E 



34 

tains of the Great Kenhavvah. South-west of the 
Bow of the Allegheny, and under the name of Laurel 
Hill and Chesnut Ridge, it ranges northward as far 
as the sources of the Susquehannah. Southward, the 
people of Kentucky and Tenessee have given to the 
great branch which divides Kentucky from Virginia 
the name of the Great Laurel, and that of Cumberland 
to its continuation along the side of the Cumberland 
river to its mouth. I have not been able to collect 
sufficient information as to this region. The Ame- 
rican government might easily obtain a complete 
knowledge of the country, by obliging all their sur- 
veyors to submit themselves to the examination and 
superintendance of the college of William and Mary, 
at Williamsburg, and to add a few topographical par- 
ticulars to the present barren returns. They might 
thus, in a few years, obtain materials for a complete 
exhibition of their rivers and mountains. 

I shall now proceed to give some account of the 
interior structure of those mountains ; of the nature 
and arrangement of their strata. Though my infor- 
mation will be very defective, yet I trust that, as far 
as it goes, its novelty and accuracy will somewhat 
gratify those readers, who assign to the science of 
physical geography that importance which it justly 
claims. 






m^ 




,nafvHlf <'JI /Vir 




S/'fft 



Sitn.t i- .f/i^//f tf,;t 



r.r.ixW 



?^^^/,,-<r t,:,t,-r 






35 



INTERIOR STRUCTURE. 



During my different journies in the United States, 
I was careful to collect specimens of those mineral 
substances which appeared to prevail most exten- 
sively. Being frequently obliged to travel, for many 
days together, on foot, I was able to procure only 
small masses, but such, however, as sufficiently cor- 
responded with my views. These specimens, ar- 
ranged and compared, at Philadelphia, with others, 
possessed or presented to me by other enquirers, has 
enabled me, with the aid of some learned mineralo- 
gists, to draw up, at Paris, a kind of physical geo- 
graphy of the United States*. 

With these materials, I have been able to distri- 
bute, with sufficient certainty, the region comprised 
between the Mississippi and the Atlantic Ocean into 
the five following districts : 



I. THE GRANITE REGION. 

The first region, which is that of granite, is bound- 
ed by the Atlantic Ocean, from Long Island to the 
mouth of the St. Laurence; by a line ascending that 
river to Lake Ontario, qr rather to Kingston or Fron- 

* These specimens are now in the collection of Citizen Methe- 
rie, editor of the Physical Journal, at Paris. 




.\h„lt"n,l r,,J, 



tin,, vello w ri.tv 



Ik- Sh,!!^ il\.,l 



36 

tinac, to a spot called the Thousand Isles; proceeding 
thence along the Mohawk, from its source to the 
Hudson, and, by the course of that river, back to 
Long Island, the point of setting out. Through all 
this space, the superficial soil is bedded in a mass of 
granite, which forms the gi'cat body of the mountains, 
and with which strata of a different nature are very 
sparingly mingled. This substance shows itself upon 
the surface, in the neighbourhood of New York ; it 
forms the nucleus of Long Island, on which the sands 
have been accumulated by the sea. It ranges unin- 
terruptedly along the coast of Connecticut, Rhode 
Island, and Massachusetts, with the exception, how- 
ever, of Cape Cod, which is a heap of sand, brought 
thither by the gulf stream. The granite still conti- 
nues to form the shore of New Hampshire and Maine, 
where it is mingled, in a slight degree, with sand 
stone or grit, and with lime stone, the last of which 
is, chiefly as a manure, an article of considerable 
trade. It forms the rocks and promontories of Aca- 
dia, or Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, and the 
nucleus (or kernel) of the mountains of Notre Dame 
and Magdelaine, that rise near the mouth of the St. 
Laurence. The banks of this river are generally 
composed of schist, but granite continually shows it- 
self in detached rocks and masses. We find it also 
in the neighbourhood of Quebec ; in the rocky mass 
which forms the basis of the citadel ; in the high 
mountains north-west of the city ; and under the 
cataract called Montgomery Falls^ which is a small 



37 

fiver flowing from the north, and falHng into the St. 
Laurence, over a shelf forty-five feet in height. The 
immediate bed of this fall is calcareous, in horizontal 
strata of a dark grej^ colour, and of that kind called 
primitive or crystallized. The upper banks are of 
a light brown granite, in strata almost vertical. In- 
deed, wherever it is found near the St. Laurence, its 
beds are more or less inclined, and never parallel to 
the horizon. On the right bank of this river, oppo- 
site Quebec, there abounds a granite, red, black, and 
grey, the same of which the state-house at Boston is 
built, and which is found in the environs of that town. 
It is likewise similar to the rock brought from the 
Russian lake Ladoga, which forms the pedestal of the 
equestrian statue of Peter the first, at Petersburg. 
The isle, on which Montreal is built, is calcareous, 
but the adverse bank of the river, which enbosoms 
it, is formed of blocks of granite, that have doubtless 
rolled /rom the neighbouring heights. The same 
substance forms the summit of Belle-Isle Mountain, 
as well as the ridge of the White Mountains^ of New 
Hampshire. The secondary hills of New England 
are mostly of granite, except those around Middleton 
and Worcester, which are of grit. I am likewise 
assured that the western branches of the Green Moun- 
tain, and those of Lake Champlain, are, for the most 
part, calcareous, though the rocks of Ticonderoga arc 
oi grit^ while the eastern branches, whicli spread over 
Vermont, are of granite. It appears, upon the whole, 
that granite pervades the country near Lake George, ^ 



38 

rorming the isthmus which separates the Hudson and 
its tributary streams from that lake, and ascending to 
the sources of these streams, and of the Black River. 
From thence it is diffused as far as the St. Laurence, 
the Thousand Isles, and Frontinac, where it is of a 
reddish hue, crystallized in large masses, and abound- 
ing \\ith feld spath. Alexander Mackenzie, in his 
Travels, lately published, will enable us to trace it 
still fin'ther nordi. This judicious observer, whom I 
knew at Philadelphia, tells us, that a greyish dusky 
granite is found throughout the country which extends 
from Lake Winnipeek to Hudson's Bay, and, accord- 
ing to report, throughout all the region lying between 
that bay and the Sea of Labrador ; and consequently 
we are justified in saying, that all North America, 
above Long Island, is a rock of granite. 

Mr. Mackenzie likewise informs uS, that calcare- 
ous rock, in thin layers, disposed nearly horizontally, 
and of a soft, yielding texture, are found upon the 
eastern banks of Lake Dauphin, of Lakes Castor, 
Ceder, Winnipeek, and Superior, as well as in the 
beds of all the adjacent and contiguous rivers. He 
adds, that in the narrowest part of Lake Winnipeek, a 
breadth of only two or three miles, the western shore 
is bordered with a calcareous rock of the same loose 
texture, rising to a height of thirty feet, while the 
adverse or eastern shore is lined with lofty rocks, of 
the before-mentioned granite. 

From this view, it follows, that the calcareous 
region, which is spread out westward of the Alleg- 



39 

heny, extends, north-west, as far as Lake Michigan 
and the fountains of the Mississippi ; from thence to 
the sources of the Saskatchewaine river, thus rejoin- 
ing the grand chain of the Stony or Chippewan Moun- 
tains, which are only a continuation of the Cordillera'^ 
of the Andes. "We may remark," says Mackenzie, 
" that it is in the line of contact with those immense 
chains of lime stone and granite which embosom the 
vast lakes of North America." This curious and 
important fact is truly worthy the attention of philo- 
sophers!. 

Returning southward from the river St. Laurence, 
granite is every where found in the county of Steu- 
ben, as far as the sources of the Mohawk, whose 
course it accompanies, without crossing it, ex- 
cept at the little falls above Skenectada. We lose 
sight of it, however, at the grand cataract of the Co- 
hoeze, where the river rolls over a bed of serpentine, 
a stone which greatly prevails throughout the South- 
ivest Mountain:!:, and particularly near Monticello, in 
Virginia. It re-appears above Albany, on the eastern 
shore of Hudson, which river flows between rugged 
banks, covered with stunted oaks and meagre firs. 
Twenty miks above Poughkeepsie, commence those 

* Spine or back-bone. — Trans. 

t The channel of the Mohawk separates the granitic from the 
sand stone country. 

\ This ought rather to be called the Red Ridge, on account of 
an argillaceous earth of this colour, exactly similar to what we find 
at Aleppo, in Syria. 



40 

transverse ridges, rocky and sterile, which forcibly 
remind us of Corsica and the Vivarais. They ex- 
tend for a length of twenty-five miles, and are every 
where roughened by mishapen blocks of greyish gra- 
nite, in strata of forty-five or fifty degrees of inclina- 
tion, covered with moss and dwarfish evergreens. 
These banks are similar in their appearance, as far 
down as West Point, where the river passes through the 
last of these transverse ridgOR. Here terminates the 
region called the Highlands, and begins the low, level, 
and maritime country, which continues to New York. 
In this latter course, the left bank of the river is com- 
posed of masses of granite, so disposed upon the sur- 
face as to make it probable that they are sunk very 
deep bdow it. 

The enquiries of a mincralogical society, estab- 
lished at New York, have ascertained that the district 
round New York, the river Hudson, and Haarlem 
river is bottomed upon granite, and that this substance 
forms the principal hills which stretch into New Jer- 
sey. The direction of the strata, especially below 
Connecticut, is from north-east to south-west, which 
is a line parallel to the coast. Their inclination is 
nearly vertical, and the ridges of this substance are 
supposed to extend into Vermont. Dr. Mitchill, in 
the accounts he has given relative to these points, in 
1797, observes, that from the sea to West Point, 
which is a low and maritime country, the rock is 
composed of quartz, feld spath, schorl, mica, and 
granite, sometimes in nodules, and sometimes in 



41 

leaves ; that the granitic region ends abruptlj?' on the 
Hudson, at Pollepelle Island, opposite the great rock 
at Fishkill, twenty miles below Poiighkeepsie ; and 
that, at the distance of forty rods farther, begins the 
schistous region, which emerges to view on the banks 
of the river, so as to suggest the belief of its serving 
as a bed to the granite. It is conjectured that the 
former substance extends to Albany, and forms the 
basin of the Cohoez, which, however, cannot be ad- 
mitted, unless we call by the name of schist that ser- 
pentine, of which I brought away a specimen. In 
this schist, Dr. Mitchill tells us, are imbedded all the 
calcareous masses scattered over the country. He 
mentions a block of this kind one mile from Claverac, 
and four from the town of Hudson, which presents a 
surface of eight hundred acres, full of marine shells, 
wholly dissimilar from those of the neighbouring sea, 
which is distant about a hundred and forty miles. 
Dr. Mitchill likewise mentions other calcareous 
masses near New York, where the high lands separate 
the waters of the Sound from those of the Hudson. 
He thinks that, at some remote period, the ocean 
covered all these spaces, and his opinion is corrobo- 
rated by the nature and condition of the Katskill 
Mountains. 

The Katskill he found to be composed of the same 
sand stone or grit which constitutes the Blue Ridge, 
of which he deems it to be a branch. We are thus 
enabled to fix the boundary, on this side, between 
the granite and the sand stone, which forms the second 

F 



42 

region. This sand stone reposes, at Katskill, upon 
a bed of soft slate, which, when burnt, emits a strong 
bituminous smell, and A\hose strata are sometimes 
irregular, and sometimes inclined in an angle of from 
fifty to eighty degrees. He considers this substance 
as the primitive one, because granite and grit contain 
no petrifactions, but, on the contrary, possess the 
following distinguishing appearances : — 1. The rocks 
are formed of gravel, of pebbles, of red and bkck 
quartz, of red and grey jasper, all evidently rounded 
and smoothed by friction with water. 2. Their strata 
are all regular and horizontal. 3. The petrifactions 
are shells, which, excepting the clam and the scollop, 
are unknown in the neighbouring seas, are found upon 
their summits, in a mass of clay and pebbles. These 
appearances have led this philosopher to conclude that 
there were three periods in the growth or formation 
of this region. At the first period, the sands were 
collected and deposited ; at the second, the waters 
overflowed and settled on it; at the third period, shell- 
fish were generated. 

It is also remarked, that the steep side of these 
mountains looks toward the west, while the eastern 
side is a slow and easy descent. In the granitic region, 
which I have just described, there are some re- 
markable deviations from this rule. A different 
arrangement is found in the mountains between Sun- 
bury and Harrisburg, on the Susquehannah, com- 
posed chiefly of this kind of stone ; in a vein o^ granitic 
talcy or isinglass, of which I shall speak hereafter; 



43 

and in numerous masses at the foot of the South- 
west Moimtain, in Virginia, 



II. THE GRIT OR SAND STONE REGION. 

The grit or sand stone of the Katskill forms the 
ch:iracteristic feature of the second region, which 
comprises the mountainous country of the Bhie Ridge, 
the Allegheny, and Laurel Hill, the sources of the 
Kenhawah, the knot or bow of the Allegheny, and, 
generally, all the southern chains, as far as the angle 
of Georgia and the Apalachi. I lost the track of it 
westward, in the state of Tenessee and the Cumber- 
land Mountain, and cannot mark its junction with the 
calcareous region with any certainty. In the north 
and north-west, its limits appear to be those of the 
sources of the Susquehannali, of the Genessee lakes, 
and generally the right bank of the Mohawk and 
Hudson. Dr. B. S. Barton, of Philadelphia, who, in 
returning from a journey to Niagara, in 1797, tra- 
versed the higher parts of Pennsylvania, continually 
met with grit from Tyoga to within nine miles of 
Nazareth. Mr. Guillemard, in his journey from Phi- 
ladelphia to Pittsburg, through Sunbury, never lost 
sight of this substance till he passed the Allegheny, 
a few calcareous vallies excepted*. 

* The country of the upper Susqueharnah is composed of 
schist, schorl, and feld spath, and is cut up by a series of hills 
of moderate height, which ascend by degrees to the Allegheny. 



44 

III Virginia, from Charlotteville to Gauley river, I 
myself observed grit in great abundance, in the ten 
or twelve ridges which I passed in succession, inter- 
mingled with the calcareous vallies of Staunton and 
Green Briar. Sometimes this grit gives j^lace to a 
milk-white quartz, which abounds on the Blue Ridge 
as you go from Fredericktown to Harper's ferry, and 
sometimes to a grey quartz, which is the nucleus of 
the Blue Ridge, at the chasm formed by the passage 
of the Potowmack through it. In this chasm some 
of the rocks are granitic, but these are sparingly scat- 
tered. 

The sand stone mountains are less naked and bare 
of vegetation than might beforehand be naturally ex- 
pected. I found their highest tops, in Virginia, be- 
tween Green Briar and Gauley rivers, covered with the 
lofty trees and luxuriant herbage which decorate the fat 
and prolific vallies of Kentucky. The high country 
which extends beyond Fort Cumberland, from the 
heads of Potowmack to those of Yoghogheny, known 
by the name of the Green Glades^ is a genuine Swiss 
country, rich in pasture, whose luxuriance is sus- 
tained, in summer, by the rains and mists, which at 
that season are wanting on the plains. This circum- 
stance is owing -to an elevation of about twenty-four 
hundred feet. These advantages, however, are not 



Plere grit predominates. There occasionally appear veins of ba- 
salt, the products and proofs of ancient volcanoes. Every where 
the vegetation is feeble and stunted. 



45 

shared by the Gauley Ridge and Laurel Hill, which 
are stony and dry. Evans, the geographer, estimates 
the cultivable portion of their surface at one tenth of 
the whole, and his extensive surveys entitle his con- 
jectures to some credit. These cultivable spaces are 
only found in the vallies, enriched, as all vallies are, 
by the soil and leaves washed or blown down from 
the adjacent heights. 

In the north-west quarter, about the Genessee 
lakes, and the Lakes Erie and Ontario, the grit ter- 
minates in a region of schistous slate and of blue 
chalk, so considerable as to form the bed, or bottom 
and sides of these lakes. These substances spread 
themselves over the strata of coal, found in western 
Pennsylvania. This chalk is replete with marine 
shells. We find these schistous masses at Niagara, 
and all along the Great River, as far down as Quebec. 
We have already seen that, for the most part, it paves 
the channel of the upper Hudson. These are the 
boundaries of the great schistous region ; elsewhere 
it is only occasionally visible. 

Besides this vast realm of sand stone, some spots 
of the same nature are scattered through the granitic 
and calcareous regions. Such is the district of Wor- 
cester, in Massachusetts, the largest detached region 
of chalk I have met with, for I could not trace any 
connection it possessed w^ith the Allegheny. 



46 



III. THE CALCAREOUS OR LIME STONE REGION. 

The third or calcareous region comprises all the 
western country, beyond the mountains, and extends 
itself, as Mackenzie informs us, north-westward, 
across the rivers and lakes, to the heads of Sakachee 
river, and the Stony or Chipewan Hills. The por- 
tion that has fallen under my own view, and which 
lies between the Tenessee and the St. Laurence, and 
between the mountains and the Mississippi, is an im- 
mense rock or bed of lime stone, disposed horizontally 
in lamina or layers, of one or more inches in thick- 
ness, of a close and firm texture, and generally of a 
grey colour. In the north, this stone is of the crys- 
tallized or primitive kind. This stratum is overlayed 
sometimes by clay, and sometimes by gravel. Above 
all, at the surface, is a mass of black mould, which 
is more abundant and of greater depth, sometimes 
fifteen feet, in the vales and bottoms, and shallower 
and more scanty in the slopes and heights, where it 
sometimes dwindles to a depth of six or eight inches. 
This circumstance, as well as the foliated form of the 
stone, bears testimony to the ancient influence of the 
waters of the ocean. 

In the country round Pittsburg, on the Ohio, in 
the district of Green Briar, on the Kenhawah, and 
throughout Kentucky, an examination always leads 
to the grand calcareous foundation. I have seen it 
naked in the channels of all the brooks and rivers 



47 

from the Kenhawah to the rapids of Ohio, near Louis- 
ville. On the road from Cincinnati to Lake Erie, it 
is found to be the flooring of the Miami and Clay 
Rivers. Lake Erie is probably bottomed upon a 
dark-coloured schist, but specimens are continually 
found of calcareous substances. A lime stone rock 
forms the cataract of Niagara, extends itself into the 
Genessee country, and accompanies the river to Que- 
bec. In this northern quarter, the calcareous sub- 
stance is crystallized, as appears from the specimens 
brought up by the settlers in sinking their wells. 

The breaches made in this stratum or rock give 
rise to the funnels or pits before-mentioned, which 
swallow up the rains and rivulets. I met with curious 
instances of this nature near Green Briar, in Virginia, 
and at S'mking Springs in Genessee, where a spring 
appears at the bottom of a pit, and, after a course of 
only six feet, sinks again into the earth. To these 
subterranean waters may be attributed the currents of 
air found in some caverns, of which Mr. Jefferson has 
given an example, in the mountain called the Calf 
Pasture. 

From Louisville to the White River, where it ends 
abruptly, the naked lime stone rock may be seen 
through the limpid course of all the streams. On 
reviewing my specimens, some American travellers 
have assured me, that the Holdston, a northern branch 
of the Tenessee, flows over rocks of the same nature. 
I regret exceedingly that I had no suitable means of 



48 

ascertaining the nature of the country beyond, in 
Georgia and Florida. 

At Louisville, the first layer or stratum, on the 
lofty balik of the river, is a black earth, three feet 
thick. Under this is a mass of thin sand, from four- 
teen to fifteen feet thick, %vithoiit any marine exiima; 
but below this is another layer of sand, six or ten 
inches thick, which contains these remains : from 
thence to the bottom of the river is a stratum of large, 
heavy gravel. The whole bank is twenty-five feet 
high. 

Four miles east of Louisville, as we go back into 
the country, the superficial soil is about twenty inches 
in depth. Farther onward, and four miles from 
Frankfort, we meet with it no deeper than fifteen 
inches. At these places, this layer of mould reposes 
on a mass of clay, from twenty-four to thirty- six 
inches deep, which is not found near the river. 
Under this clay is the lime stone, which may with 
difficulty be pierced through, till we find a bed of 
gravel and clay, where the waters, not drained oft' by 
wells, are suspended. 

At the spot above-mentioned, near Louisville, the 
rock is three feet thick, and water is found ten feet 
below the surface. At other places, the thickness oi 
the stratum is greater. The rocks ^vhich form the 
rapids of the Ohio, below Louisville, belong to this , 
great calcareous bed. In these lower masses, at their 
surface, are found a great number of petrifactions, 



49 

not incnisted in the mass, but brought thither from 
above. I never met with any petrifactions in the 
body of this calcareous stratum, a circumstance that 
more surprised me, because, near Frankfort, in tra- 
versing the top of a high ridge, about a hundred feet 
above Elkhorn creek, which crosses it, I found in 
the woods a great number of large stones, composed 
of entire marine petrifactions. At Cincinnati, on the 
banks of the Ohio, the same kind of petrifactions 
again appeared. Dr. Barton has also collected spe- 
' cimens of the same substance on the heights of Onon- 
dago, in the state of New York, more than 575 miles 
distant, with this slight difference, however, that his 
' specimens are of a blue slate, while mine are of a 
rose-violet, colour. 

On my return to Paris, I submitted these petrified 

'shells to the examination of one of our most skilful 

naturalists, M. Lamark ; and I cannot do better than 

to insert, in this place, his account of them, in his 

own words : 

" I have carefully examined the fossil specimens 
with which you have entrusted me, and \vhich you 
collected in North America. 

" I cannot hesitate to refer them to the terrebra- 
tula genus of fossils, in irregular masses. This is 
a new genus, explained in my system of Animals 
witbout Spine. These almost all of them belong to 
that class which are grooved or fluted longitudinally 
from top to bottom, like those which Linneeus has 

G 



50 

denominated anoynia dorsata. In these specimens, 
we see nothing but the interior mass, the stony or 
concrete substance with which their cavities have 
been gradually filled up, during their long abode in 
the bowels of the earth. We nevertheless still find 
on many of them small whitish fragments of the pri- 
mitive shell itself. 

*' In the specimen from Cincinnati, we may dis- 
tinctly trace three kinds of fossil shells : first, a species 
of terrebratula with large grooves or flutings, and 
which resembles the figure given in the New Ency- 
clopaedia, pi. 241, fol. 3 ; secondly, a species not 
grooved or fluted, but jagged or notched ; and thirdly, 
a bivalve shell, with a few jaggs, which I cannot as- 
sign to its proper genus, not being able to examine 
the joint. 

" In the sample from Kentucky, taken from a 
height of a hundred feet above the water, I have 
noticed shells of different ages, all terrebratula of the 
fluted species, which approach nearly to those exhi- 
bited in the New Encyclopaedia, pi. 242, fol. 1. Its 
flutings are more numerous and minute than in the 
former specimen. One of them, of a somewhat tri- 
angular shape, has a groove or channel, on the top of 
the largest shell, nearly resembling that we meet with 
in pi. 244, fol. 7. The other terrebratula, in the 
same sample, is large, and flattened like a card, but it 
is a fragment too imperfect to allow us to ascertain 
its nature. It contains a fragment of belemnite. 



51 

*' After carefully considering these specimens, it 
is clear to me, that the districts of North America 
which furnished them have formerly been covered by 
the sea^, or at least they point out that portion of the 
surface which has once been the bottom, and not the 
banks of the sea ; for they all belong to the class of 
pelagia (see my Hydrogeology, pp. 64, 70, 71), 
which, like the gryphytes, ammonites, orthoceratistes, 
belemnites, encrinites. Sec. are found only at the 
greatest depths of the sea, and never near the shore. 
The greatest part of the shells are only known in a 
fossil state. On the whole, your enquiries have ascer- 
tained the mineralogical state of North America, as 
far as can be conveniently done, and justify us in con- 
cluding that, among its mineral substances, none of 
the littorral shells are to be found." 

Besides the western country, and the region I have 

just described, there are only two calcareous districts, 

I of any considerable extent. One is the valley formed 

I by the ridges of the Blue Ridge and North Mountain, 

from Delaware, above Easton, and Bethlehem, to the 

sources of the Shenandoah, and even to the great 

: * In support of this opinion, we may mention the salines, salt 
pools, or salt licks, as they are called in America, which are found 
every where throughout the western country. The richest of 
' these is near Lake Oneida, where the fluid contains one eighteenth 
^ of the whole weight in salt. The northern seas contain but one 
I thirty-second part, and those within the tropics one twelfth. — 
These salt lakes or pools are seldom to be met with on the At- 
lantic coast. 



52 

bow of the Allegheny ; for the county of Bottetourt, 
which occupies the latter region, is called the lime 
stone county, because it supplies with this material 
all the country east of the Blue Ridge, where none is 
to be found. Rockbridge likewise is chiefly calca- 
reous, as well as the banks of the Shenandoah, as far 
as the Potowmack. 

A second part of this valley, that which extends 
from the Potowmack to the Susquehannah, is watered 
by Great Connegochiegue and Connidogwinnet, and 
contains the fertile districts of Chambersburg, Ship- 
pensburg, and Carlisle. The third part, stretching 
from the Susquehannah to the Delaware, is watered 
by the Swatara, crosses with some breaks the branches 
of Schuylkill, and ends at Easton and Nazareth, 
whose soil is not unfertile. Its north-east limit is 
the Kittatinni Ridge, an elongation of the North 
Mountain ; its south-east boundary is the ridge known 
by the various names of South Mountain, Flying 
Hills, and Oley Hills, but w^hich is no more, as I 
have already proved, than a direct continuation of 
the Blue Ridge. The boundaries of this great cal- 
careous valley, extending from the bow of the Alleg- 
heny to Easton, in two lateral ridges, evince the 
truth of my former details on the course and conti- 
nuity of these mountains. 

The second calcareous district, contiguous to the 
former, lies on the opposite or eastern side of the 
Blue Ridge, from the gap of the Potowmack to the 
neighbourhood of Schuylkill, in Lancaster county. 



53 

Its south and south-west limits are formed by the 
Potowmack and the channel, which it does not cross, 
of the Great Mofiocassi. It comprises the district of 
Fredericktown, the course, for the greater part, of 
the Patapsco, and the counties of York and Lan- 
caster, which are justly deemed the granaries of Penn- 
sylvania. It is lost between Morristown and Rox- 
bury, on Schuylkill. The rest of its skirt, from the 
Monocassi to Schuylkill, does not coincide with the 
ridge of the high land, though it forms a line of sepa- 
ration between many streams, and it does not assume 
that regular vale-like form, by which all the other 
calcareous districts are distinguished. 

Between the calcareous substances of these two 
districts and that of the western district, there are 
two remarkable differences. The masses, in the east, 
are generally of a deep blue colour, and abound with 
veins of black quartz; whereas the western lime 
stone, especially in Kentucky, is grey, and of a pure 
and even grain, and foliated texture. 

The western stratum is nearly horizontal, and 
forms the country into a sort of immense flat table. 
In the eastern district, especially at Rockbridge, 
Staunton, Fredericktown, York, and Lancaster, 
and as far as Nazareth, the strata is generally bro- 
ken and irregular. When found regularly inclined, 
the inclination is most commonly from 40 to 50 de- 
grees. A remarkable exception, however, to this 
rule will be found in the valley between North Moun- 
tain and the Blue Ridge, where the angle is always 



54 

less than 45 degrees, while near Lancaster, York, and 
Fredericktovvn, exclusive of the mountains, the angle 
is most frequently above 45 degrees, and this holds 
as to all the strata, be they granite or grit, which are 
less inclined in the mountains, and whose inclination 
increases as they approach the sea. At the falls of 
Schuylkill, near Philadelphia, the inclination of the 
talc is 70 degrees ; at the Hudson river it is 90 de- 
grees. 

From these facts we are led to conclude, that the 
Atlantic coast has been shaken and overturned by 
earthquakes, to which we shall hereafter show it has 
been subject, while all the country westward of the 
Allegheny has been undisturbed. Thus, I am assured 
by Dr. Barton, that words corresponding with earth- 
quake and volcano are familiarly used by the aboriginal 
natives of the east, whereas no such terms can be found 
in the languages of the western tribes, volcanoes being 
commonly connected with earthquakes ; and accord- 
ingly we find basaltic masses in the vallies of the 
Allegheny. Whether there exist any ancient craters 
is worthy of particular enquiry. I cannot say whether 
there be any fossil shells in the eastern lime stone ; I 
only know that they have been found in the primitive 
lime stone, adjacent to Lake Ontario and Niagara. 

We occasionally light upon calcareous veins and 
branches, at a distance from the principal regions. 
One of these, in the district of Maine, furnishes a 
great deal of lime. Rocky Point, on Lake Cham- 
plain, is likewise calcareous, and no doubt it is to be 



55 

found in other pp.rts of this lake. It occurs in the 
neighbourhood of New York ; but the most remark- 
able instance that occurs, in the southern states, is a 
vein whose medial breadth is forty-five feet, but 
which is sometimes no broader than ten feet, but 
whose length is upwards of two hundred miles, which 
is met with between the Potowmack and the Roanoke, 
As this vein is generally at the surface, and supplies 
the neighbouring inhabitants with lime, its course 
can be traced with certainty. It does not deviate 
more than four or five miles from the Red or South- 
west Mountain, to which it is parallel. 



IV. REGION OF SEA SAND. 

The fourth region, formed of sea sand, comprises 
all the maritime plains, from Sandy Hook, opposite 
Long Island, to Florida. The interior boundary of 
this sand is a ridge or bank of granitic talc, or isin- 
glass, called, by the Swedish traveller Kalm, glimmer, 
which runs parallel to the coast. This bank or ridge 
shoots out from the extremity of the granitic ridges 
on the right bank of the Hudson, and perhaps even of 
that which faces Long Island. This latter ridge, I 
have no doubt, is continued under water for a length 
of five, hundred, and with a breadth of from two to 
five miles, as far as the Roanoke, in North Carolina. 
In all this course, this border ridge, as Evans has 
well observed, is m.arked by the cascades, which the 



56 

rivers ibrm in flowing over it. These falls are the 
limits of the tide waters. Thus this talcy ridge 
strikes the Delaware at Trenton ; the Schuylkill six 
miles above Philadelphia ; the Susquehannah above 
the mouth of Octoraro ; Gunpowder creek above 
Joppa; the Patapsco above Elkridge ; the Potow- 
mack above Georgetown ; the Rappahannock above 
Fredericksburg ; the Pamunkey below its two bran- 
ches, fifty miles above Hanover ; James River at 
Richmond ; the Appamattox above Petersburg ; and 
the Roanoke above Halifax. 

Between this bank and the sea, the surface, in a 
breadth of from thirty to a hundred miles, is composed 
of sand, evidently deposited by the sea, which once 
flowed at the foot of this bank. At the mouths and 
on the borders of rivers, some clayey particles, washed 
from the mountains, are mixed with the sand, and 
form a fertile soil. The geographer, Evans, disco- 
vered a subterraneous stratum of yellowish clay, from 
three to four miles in breadth, lying lengthwise be- 
tween this ridge and the sea shore, and which, by 
giving consistency to the neighbouring sands, make 
them suitable for bricks, as we find near Philadelphia. 
With these two exceptions, the sand resembles that 
of the adjacent sea, and is a fine black sand, twenty 
feet in depth. 

Peter Kalm, a Swede, who travelled in America 
in 1742, observes, that in Pennsylvania and New Jer- 
sey the strata are as follows : 

1st, Vegetable earth, ten or twelve inches. 



57 

2d, Sand mixed with clay, from six to seven feet 
deep. 

3d, Gravel and round pebbles, containing clam and 
oyster shells, of the same kind as those in the neigh- 
bouring sea. 

4th, A bed of black mud, full of reeds and trunks 
of trees, whose depth he has not given us. This bed, 
which taints the water of the wells, is found, at Phi- 
ladelphia, at a depth between fourteen and eighteen 
feet; at Racoon, in New Jersey, between thirty and 
forty feet : at Washington city, I have myself seen it 
at the depth of eighteen feet, at the house of Mr. 
Law, where a well has been spoiled by it. 

5th, Below all these strata is a bed of clay, which 
admits not the Mater to pass through it. I shall 
be asked, perhaps, on what foundation this clay rests ; 
but I have had no means of ascertaining this point ; 
and we may as well stop here, without the trouble of 
proceeding till we find, like the Hindoos, the tortoise 
which bears up the world upon its back. 

When we consider that the interior bed or nucleus 
of Long Island is a granitic talc ; that the rocky points 
and cliffs which occasionally show themselves along 
the coast, as far as Chesapeake Bay, and even down 
to Norfolk, as well as the rocks at Cape Hatteras, 
are of the same substance, one is disposed to consider 
it as the universal sub-stratum of the sandy region. 
But the inclination of these strata, in the line of the 
>;cascades, which is 70 degrees to the fall of Schuyl- 
kill, and never less than 50 degrees east and west of 

H 



58 

that point, tends still more to prove this substance to 
be the basis of the inner region, which is overlaid 
with the substances already described. We may fur- 
ther remark, that this talc contains a large proportion 
of mica in the countries south, and of schorl in those 
northward of this coast. 



V. REGION OF ALLUVIAL OR RIVER-FORMED SOIL. 

The remaining region is the country which undu- 
lates beyond this ridge of talc to the foot of the sand 
stone or granitic mountains. This limit is traced 
with most difficulty in western Georgia, where the 
vein of talc does not show itself. This surface is dis- 
tinguished by its risings, sometimes into long waves, 
and sometimes into round and insulated eminences ; 
by the variety of its earths and stones, sometimes 
confused, and sometimes arranged with regularity, 
and which appear and disappear many times succes- 
sively, from the mountains to the maritime plain, 
always bearing the appearance of having been brought 
gradually down, by the rains and rivers, from the 
heights ; and such, in truth, is the origin of all this 
country. When we calculate the volume, the rapi- 
dity, and the num.ber of these streams ; of the Dela- 
ware, Schuylkill, Susquehannah, Potowmack, Rap- 
pahannock, York and James Rivers, &:c.; when wc 
observe that, long before their mixture with the 
ocean, they spread themselves to a breadth of from 



59 

half a mile to three miles, over a bottom from twenty 
to sixty feet deep ; that, in their annual floods, they 
rise sometimes to a height of twenty feet above their 
ordinary level, we shall easily perceive what immense 
portions of earthy matter must be carried about, espe- 
cially as, in former ages, the mountains must have 
had a greater elevation, and, of course, given greater 
swiftness and force to the torrents ; that the forest 
trees, torn up and carried off by thousands, added to 
their destructive course ; that the ice, accumulated 
by six months of winter, forms vast mounds, such 
as took place, in 1784, in the Susquehannah, at 
M'Call's ferry, near Columbia, when a barrier of this 
kind, more than thirty feet high, was formed by the 
breaking up^ and laid the whole valley under water. 
At these periods, when the ocean bathed the foot of 
the mountains, of which there are every where mani- 
fest traces, the higher mountains, as yet undiminished 
by the loss of those particles, of which time and the 
torrents have since despoiled them, augmented the 
motion and force of the descending waters, by the 
height and abruptness of their points. Their sum- 
mits, being colder, were covered with deeper snows 
for a longer time ; and when the heats of summer, 
shorter no doubt, but not less intense, than at present, 
dissolved these snows, the torrents thus formed in- 
volved a greater quantity of earth, hollowed out deeper 
channels, and bore away trees with their roots, and 
large masses of the soil connected with their fibres, 
all which they deposited in the lowest shelves of the 



60 

mountains. In following years, new wrecks accu- 
mulate and clog the ancient channels : the torrents, 
impeded thus by mounds of their own creating, have 
their volume and their impetuosity augmented, till 
they find their way through the weakest part, and 
carry the softer matters onward by new channels, 
while the more ponderous fragments remain behind. 
By a process of this kind continuing incessantly for 
ages, the beds of ancient torrents enlarge gradually 
into vallies, and what were once sharp edges or hard 
bottoms of the stream, become slopes and plains. 
The waters descending from level to level, and leav- 
ing at each resting place their grosser matters, gra- 
dually deposit the lighter and more soluble, thus cir- 
cumscribing the ocean by continual accessions of 
sand, mud, and pebbles, all of which are arrested and 
bound together by the trunks and branches of trees. 
The Mississippi offers a luminous example of all 
these operations. It has been computed by M. Lian- 
court, that between 1720 and 1800, a period of eighty 
years, this river has advanced its banks fifteen miles 
into the sea. Thus, under the eyes of three genera- 
tions, it has raised a new country from the sea, which 
daily encreases, and where beds of coal are slowly 
forming and accumulating for the use of future ages. 
So rapidly does this deposition take place, that, at 
New Orleans, three hundred miles above the actual 
mouth of the river, a canal lately dug by the Baron 
de Carondelet, betw^een Lake Pontchartrain and the 
Mississippi, has brought to light a sub- stratum of 



61 

black earth, mixed with remains of trees, which have 
neither had time to be decomposed nor converted into 
coal. The two banks of the river are entirely com- 
posed of trunks of trees cemented together by mud, 
for a length of upwards of three hundred leagues, to 
the height of twelve or sixteen feet. Hence it is that 
the vernal inundation, which swells the river thirty 
feet above its ordinary level, and overflows the adja- 
cent country, which is lower than the bank, is hin- 
dered from entirely returning, and stagnates into 
immense marshes. These swamps are a present bar 
to culture and population, though hereafter they may 
supply the means of inexhaustible fertility. 



LAKES THAT HAVE DISAPPEARED. 

In the structure of the mountains of this country, 
there is another circumstance, more remarkable than 
any yet mentioned, by which the force of the waters 
is greatly increased, and their course diversified. 
When we attentively examine the strata, and even 
the surveys of these regions, we observe that the prin- 
cipal ridges of the Allegheny proceed in a line per- 
pendicular to the course of the great rivers, which 
have been obliged to open themselves a way through 
the solid mass of these ridges. This process is evi- 
dent in the James, Potowmack, Susquehannah, Dela- 
ware, &c. these streams having surmounted the oppo- 
sition of these ridges, before their entrance into the 



62 

low country. The most remarkable instance of this 
nature is the passage of the Potowmack, three miles 
below the Shenandoah. Coming from Frederick- 
town, twenty miles distant, I proceeded from the 
south-east towards the south-west, through a woody 
and uneven country. After crossing the first ridge, 
which, though of easy ascent, is quite distinct, I saw 
before me, eleven or twelve miles to the west, the Blue 
Ridge, resembling a lofty rampart covered with forests, 
and rent, in one place, from top to bottom. Re-as- 
cending, over a rough and waving surface, which lay 
between me and the ridge, I found myself at length 
at the foot of this rampart, which appeared to me 
about eleven hundred feet in height*. 

After emerging from among the trees, I beheld, in 
the body of this great wall, an immense rift or gap, 
about 4000 or 4500 feet in width. At the bottom of 
this gap flowed the river Potowmack, having on the 
left side, or that on which I was, a sloping bank, equal 
in breadth to itself, and on the right, touching the 
foot of the gap. On both declivities, from top to 
bottom, are scattered trees, rooted in the clefts and 
hollows, and partly concealing the rent. On the 
right, however, there is a considerable part of the 
declivity too steep to admit of trees, and which, being 
bare and exposed to the view, shows marks of the 



* For want of time and of instruments, I was obliged to con- 
jecture the height, from comparison of the summit with the 
known height of the trees at the bottom. 



63 

interior structure of the ancient wall. There appears 

a grey quartz, broken and chafed by the fragments 

rolled along by the torrent. Some considerable 

blocks, which have withstood the flood, still continue 

as its monuments, at a small distance. The bottom of 

the chasm is bristled up with rocks, which are worn 

away or removed by small degrees. The waters fret 

and boil up around these obstacles, which, for two 

miles, form dangerous falls or rapids. They were 

covered, when I saw them, with the fragments of a 

batteau, which had been wrecked a few days before, 

by which sixty barrels of flour had been lost. The 

temerity of the American navigators renders accidents 

of this kind as frequent in their rivers as on the ocean. 

As we advance in this defile, the gulph narrows till 

nothing be left between the rock and the river but a 

waggon way, which is covered by the floods of spring 

and summer. The sides of the mountain abound 

with springs, whose descending streams interrupt 

this road in many places. As the hill consists chiefly 

of pure rock, of grey quartz, and sand stone, and 

even of granite, the canal which is projected appears 

impracticable. Three miles upwards, the river joins 

the Shenandoah, which proceeds from the left along 

the inner base of the mountain. Its breadth, at this 

place, I estimate at one third of that of the Potowmack, 

which may be reckoned at 650 feet. Higher upwards, 

we may cross the latter river at Harper's ferry, and 

go up a steep bank to the inn belonging to it. From 

this point of view, the gap appears like a deep canal, 



64 

where the eye meets nothing but rocks and trees, and 
cannot penetrate to the farther end of the chasm. In 
approaching it from Fredericktown, wc sec no traces 
of the grand prospect described by Mr. Jefferson. In 
conversing with that gentleman, a few days after- 
wards, he told me he had taken his description from 
the report of a French engineer, who, during the re- 
volutionary war, had scaled the hill. At that height, 
I doubt not, the view was as spacious as the bound- 
less horizon of a savage country could afford. 

The more I consider the situation of the adjacent 
country, the more am I confirmed in the belief that 
the Blue Ridge was once entire, and by shutting the 
door against the river, forced it to expand into consi- 
derable lakes. The numerous cross ridges which 
succeed each other from Fort Cumberland, could not 
fail to establish this lake westward of North Moun- 
tain. On the other side, the valley of the Shenan- 
doah and the Connegochiegue Vv-ould naturally form a 
lake between Chambersburg and Staunton. As the 
level of these heights, whence these two above-men- 
tioned rivers take their course, is much below that 
of the Blue Ridge and North Mountain, the lines of 
their summits must have formed the boundaries of 
this lake, Avhich must have diffused itself southward 
as far as the great bow of the Allegheny. The two 
upper branches of the James River, barred up in like 
manner by the Blue Ridge', would augment this lake 
vvith all their waters, while, northward, the general 
level of the lake would find no obstacles to hinder its 



65 

extension between the Blue Ridge and the Kittatinni, 
not only as far as the Susquehannah, but even to the 
Schuylkill and Delaware. All the lower country, be- 
t^\"een the Blue Ridge and the sea, would be watered by 
the streams originating on the eastern side of the moun- 
tains, and perhaps by the overflowings of this great 
interior lake. In consequence of this state of things, 
the rivers would in general be smaller, and the surface 
more equal ; the ridge of granitic talc or isinglass 
would arrest the waters, and turn them into bogs and 
swamps ; the sea would flow up to this ridge, and 
occasion other swamps like that called the Dismal^ 
near Norfolk ; and, if the reader recollects the bed of 
black earth, mingled with rushes and trees, found 
every where, at certain depths, he will readily admit 
this hypothesis. Aided by earthquakes, which, as I 
shall hereafter show, were once very frequent through- 
out the maritime country, the waters, continually 
assailing and sapping the mountainous barrier, at 
length made themselves a passage through it. These 
passages, at first narrow and shallow, would speedily, 
by the action of mighty streams, be widened and 
deepened, till at length the breach would extend, as 
at present, from top to bottom, and the lake would 
be entirely exhausted. This operation would be by 
no means difficult, as the Blue Ridge, in general, is not 
a mass entire or crystallized in large strata, but a 
heap of separate blocks, of diflerent sizes, with their 
interstices filled with earth easily loosened and washed 
away ; it is a mound whose solid parts are cemented 

I 



66 

together by a soft earth, and as the descents are rapid, 
the rains gradually loosen its foundations, and the fall 
of large masses of stone occasions a species of ava- 
lanche, which occasionally last several hours. Hence 
the volume or pressure of the lake Avould be assisted 
greatly in its operation. Their first efforts may be 
traced in the gaps, whose sides, near the summit of 
the ridge, exhibit those notches occasioned by the 
first overflowings of the lake, and which were after- 
wards deserted for wider and more commodious pas- 
sages. It is easy to conceive that the rushing out of 
these waters would change the whole face of the lower 
country. Then were brought down all those particles 
which constitute the present surface. The banks of 
talc would easily be broken do\vn, and the inner 
swamps drained, while their accumulations would be 
added to those of the shores. The latter are found, 
at this day, buried beneath the substance deposited 
by the great rivers. 

In the vale formed by the Blue Ridge and the 
North Mountain, the changes correspond with the 
circumstances of this overflow. Several gaps, made 
at the same time or in succession, afforded passage 
to the rivers James, Potowmack, Susquehannah, 
Schuylkill, Delaware, and thus the great interior lake 
was divided into many smaller ones, by those heights 
or ridges which rose above the level of the bottom 
of the primitive gaps. Each of these lakes made 
itself, in time, an opening, which being gradually 
\vorn deeper and deeper, the whole basin was finally 



67 

drained dry. This operation was subsequent to the 
formation of the rivers James, Susquehannah, and 
Delaware, because their basins, or the vallies which 
supply them, are of a greater elevation. The Potow- 
mack must have been of later birth, because its bed 
is lower than the rest. It is worthy of the govern- 
ment of the United States, or of some learned asso- 
ciation of its citizens, to take measures for having all 
these regions accurately surveyed, with a view to 
illustrate these curious points in the physical history 
of their country. From these surveys would result 
the strongest proof of what I have said, and much 
new light would be thrown upon the ancient revolu- 
tions of our globe. 

I cannot determine how far eastward the Delaware 
then extended the reflux of its waters. It appears 
that its basin was bounded by the ridge which at pre- 
sent forms the left bank of the river, and which is an 
elongation of the Blue Ridge and the North Moun- 
tain. This basin was probably always distinct from 
that of the Hudson, which it is certain had its own 
peculiar valley or lake, whose boundary or bank was 
at the Highlands, above West Point. 

On a comprehensive view, it will clearly appear, 
that the transverse ridge, called the Highlands, for- 
merly shut up the waters of the Hudson, and thus 
raised them to a considerable height. When it is 
seen that the tide ascends this river to within ten 
miles of Albany, so low a level for so great an 



68 

extent, compared with the height of the circumjacent 
ridges, may incHne us to believe, that the lake dif- 
fused itself as fiir as Fort Edward, and perhaps was 
connected with the Lakes George and Champlain. 
The fall of the Cohoez could not exist till after the 
disruption of the southern bank at West Point. The 
existence of this lake, by satisfactorily explaining the 
traces of subterranean vegetation,^ the marine petri- 
factions, the beds of schistus and clay,' observed by 
Dr. Mitchill, justifies the inference^* drawn by that 
learned and sagacious observer, as to the situation of 
the ancient waters. 

The existence of these lakes explains the distribu- 
tion of the banks of rivers into two corresponding 
terraces, which takes place in almost all the rivers of 
America, but particularly in those of the western 
country, such as the Tenessee, Kentucky, Kenha- 
wah, and Ohio. An example of this may be taken 
from the figure of the last river, at Cincinnati or Fort 
Washington, the strata of whose banks are exhibited 
in the plate. 

a a The bed of the river, when the waters are low- 
est, such as I saw them in the month of August, 1796. 

b b The bank, almost vertical, formed of layers of 
sand, gravel, and soft earth, and worn away and un- 
dermined by the vernal floods. This bank is almost 
50 feet high. 

c c The first bank, 900 feet wide, also formed of 
gravel and smooth stones. The high waters rise to 



69 

this bank, and wash away more and more of the gravel 
and pebbles*. 

d d Is a soft ascent, about thirty feet high, com- 
posed of different beds of gravel and of earth, full of 
fossil shells, and of fiw^ial substances. These are 
also found in the loose bank. The floods never over- 
top this bank. 

e e K second bank, which extends to the foot of 
the lateral hills, and on which is seated the new town 
of Cincinnati. Such is the right bank of this river. 

The left side has the same kind and number of 
banks, at similar levels. In other places, these banks 
show themselves only on one side, while the oppo- 
site margin is a steep precipice, on which the river 
has left no durable traces, and sometimes a plain so 
wide, that the eye can discover those traces at the foot 
of the distant hills. 

On examining the arrangement and position of 
these layers or terraces, and the substance that com- 
poses them, we shall clearly perceive, that even their 
highest surface has been once overflowed, and even 
been the bed of the river, in the history of which 
three distinct periods may be traced. 

At the first of these periods, the transverse ridges 
of the hills, as yet unpierced and unbroken, barred 

* These banks, and all the slopes along the Ohio, abound with 
the stramoneum (stink-weed), which is said to have been brought 
hither accidentally from Virginia, among other seeds, and v/hich 
have encreased so much, tliat tiiere is no approaching any part of 
the bank, without being incommoded by its disagreeable odour. 



70 

up the river, and raised its waters to the level of the 
circumjacent summits. All the lower plains and val- 
lles formed a great lake or swamp of stagnant water. 
Ill the lapse of ages, and the continual assaults of 
annual floods, breaches were effected at the weakest 
parts of this mound. At one of these rents or chasms 
the waters would, of course, collect their principal 
strength, and hollow out and enlarge the opening, till 
its bottom should sink much below the level of the 
lake within. This first process would form the first 
plain or upper bank e e^ and the waters of the river 
or lake would flow over the mass c c, and its bank 
would consist of the mass d d. 

During the second period, the waters subsided in 
this bed. 

At the third period, the cataract was formed, by the 
stream growing more active and regular, and the pre- 
sent deeper and narrower channel was scooped out, 
leaving the present bank c c dry. 

It is probable the Ohio was confined at more than 
one point between Pittsburg and the rapids at Louis- 
ville. When I descended the river from the Ken- 
hawah, not entertaining my present notions on these 
subjects, I paid no critical attention to the transverse 
ridges which I met with. This deficiency, however, 
was amply supplied by the ridges I encountered to- 
wards Gallipolis, and as far as the Scioto. On my 
return from Vincennes, on the Wabash, I was first 
struck by the position of a ridge of hills, situated 
below Siher Creek, about five miles from the rapids. 



71 

This ridge, vaguely denominated, by the Canadians, 
the Banks, stretches from north to south, across the 
basiii of the Ohio. It compels the stream to change 
its course from east to west, in search of an outlet, 
which presents itself at its conflux with the Salt 
River. It may be said to require the accession of 
that river, in order to force a way through the ram- 
part before it. The rapid but smooth declivity 
of these banks may be descended in a quarter of an 
hour. Compared m ith other heights, their elevation 
may be stated at 400 feet. The summit Is too thickly 
studded with trees to permit us to trace the lateral 
course of this chain with the eye. We may discover, 
however, that it stretches far to the north and south, 
and that it shuts up the entire basin of the Ohio. 

Viewed from this summit, the general appearance 
of this vale tended strongly to eonfirm all my previ- 
ous opinions respecting the existence of an ancient 
lake. Other circumstances likewise lent their aid to 
this conclusion ; for from this ridge to the White 
RHer\ eight miles from Vincennes, the whole surface 
is roughened by hills, frequently steep and lofty. 
They are high and precipitous near the Blue River, 
and on both sides of the White River. They take 
a course, in general, transverse to the Ohio. 

On the other side, at Louisville, I have observed 
the Kentuckian bank of the river to be formed of si- 
milar ridges. There appears every Vihere a cluster of 
ridges, rising in powerful opposition to the v/aters. 
Much lower down, the country becomes flat, and the 



72 

immense savannahs of the Wabash and Green River, 
which stretch themselves as far as the Mississippi, 
begin, and exchide every supposition of a rampart on 
this side*. 

Another circumstance favourable to these opinions, 
is the rapidity with which the rivers of Kentucky flow 
near their mouths, and their tardy course near their 
sources, which is directly the reverse of what com- 
monly happens in other parts of the \\'orld. We 
must hence conclude, that the upper bed of these 
rivers approaches to a plain, and that their lower chan- 
nel is moulded into a declivity. This coincides ex- 
actly ^vith the supposition of an ancient lake ; for, 
when this supposed lake occupied the ^\ hole region 
at the foot of the Allegheny, its bottom, particularly 
near its margin, was too uniform and level to allow 
the motion of its waves to make any material altera- 
tion in the surface : but when the mound, which 

* A settler in Tenessee informed me, that all the rivers in this 
country, which flowed immediately into the Mississippi, have 
these banks. He accounts for it by stating, that every year, 
in the month of May, the Mississippi has a rise of twenty-five 
feet, which occasions all its branches to overflow, and enlarge 
gradually their channels. This rise operates like a mound or 
dyke to these rivers, and strengthens, in this respect, the theory 
which I have applied to other cases. It may also be noted, that, 
on its eastern side, the Mississippi is confined by a ridge of high 
land, which seldom affords to its periodical diffusions a breadth of 
more than four or five miles ; while, on the western side, when 
the waters surmount their immediate boundary, they spread them- 
selves over a flat sixty miles in breadth. 



73 

maintained the tranquillity of this lake, was broken 
down, the torrents thereby occasioned would furrow 
up the bottom into hills and hollows, and when finally 
the current, collected and concentered in the vale of 
the Ohio, bore down its obstructions with augmented 
rapidity, this valley would be hollowed out into a 
deep channel, whose steep sides would accelerate the 
streams, and their course continues to this day more 
rapid than elsewhere. 

Allowing, then, the Ohio to have once been dam- 
med up, either by the ridge at Silver Creek, or by 
some contiguous eminence, a lake of vast extent 
would be formed, for from Pittsburg the declivity is 
so small, that the river, when the waters are low, does 
not move more than two miles an hour, which im- 
plies a descent of four inches per mile. Now the dis- 
tance from Pittsburg to the rapids at Louisville, com- 
puting the turns of the river, does not exceed 590 

miles*. 

The difference of level, throughout this extent, 
is about 200 feet. The height of the banks may, for 
want of actual measurements, be safely conjectured 
to be 200 feet. It will appear that §uch a mound 
was sufficiently high to hold the waters which might 
extend to the neighbourhood of Pittsburg. This 
conjecture will acquire new force, when the reader 
recollects what I have already said, that the region 

* Hutchins conjectures the distance to be 700 miles, but later 
measurements have been made with more accuracy and precision. 

K 



74 

comprised between the Ohio and Lake Erie is a vast 
plain, whose uniform inclination is almost insensible, 
a fact which is supported by the following appear- 
ances : 

1. The Ohio, in its annual inundations, before it 
reaches the level of the first bank, that is to say, be- 
fore it rises to a height of fifty feet from its bottom, 
mounts up the great Miami to Greenville, a distance, 
northward, of 72 miles. Of this fact I was assured 
by the officers at Greenville, the head quarters of 
general Wayne, in 1794. 

2. During the vernal floods, the north branch of 
the Great Miami mixes its waters with the southern 
branch of the Miami of the Lake. The carrying- 
place, or portage, of a league, which separates their 
heads, disappears beneath the flood, and we can pass 
in canoes from the Ohio to Lake Erie, as I myself 
witnessed in 1796. 

3. At Loremier's Fort, or store, an eastern branch 
of the Wabash serves as a simple canal to connect the 
two Miamis ; and the same Wabash, by a northern 
branch, communicates, above Fort Wayne, in the 
time of inundation, with the Miami of Lake Erie. 

4. In the winter of 1792-3, two boats fperiagasj 
were detached from Detroit, by a mercantile house, 
from whom I received the information, which passed, 
without interruption, from the Huron river, which 
enters Lake Erie, into Grafid Ri'ver, which falls into 
Lake Michigan, by means of the rise at the heads of 
the two streams. 



75 

5. The Muskingum, which flows into the Ohio, 
communicates, at its sources, through some small 
lakes, with the Cayahoga, belonging to Lake Erie. 

The inference from these facts is, that the land 
lying between the Ohio and the lakes never exceeds 
the elevation of a hundred feet above the first bank 
of the river, nor of seventy feet above the second ; 
which is the general level of the country. Conse- 
quently a mound only two hundred feet high, placed 
at Silver Creek, would suflice, not only to spread out 
the waters towards Lake Erie, but to extend them 
from the rampart of the Allegheny to the north of 
Lake Superior. 

In fine, the existence of stagnant waters in the 
western regions, such as I have traced between the 
Blue Ridcre and the North Mountain, is no less evi- 
dent to every observer of the scene. And this fact 
clearly and simply explains a great number of local 
appeapances, which, in return, reflect new light upon 
the theory. These ancient lakes, for example, ac- 
count for the levelling of the earth throughout the 
western country in horizontal strata ; why these 
strata lie underneath each other in the order of their 
specific gravities ; why, in so many places, there 
appear the remains of trees and other vegetables, 
and even of animals, such as the bones of the mam- 
moth, found at a place called Big-bones, as well as 
elsewhere, thirty-six miles above the mouth of the 
Kentucky riven, and which could only have been thus 
collected by the action of the waters. In fine, a 



76 

happy and natural explanation is thus affordecl to the 
formation of those mines of coal, which predominate 
in certain situations and districts. 

The delving of the numerous inhabitants, for 
twenty years together, has ascertained, that the 
country above Pittsburg, comprised between Laurel 
Hill and the upper branches of the Allegheny and 
Monongahela rivers, is a mass of coal, from twelve 
to sixteen feet ipi depth. This stratum lies upon a 
horizontal bed of calcareous matter, and has a super- 
straturu of schist and slate. Its undulations conform 
to those of the strata above and below it, on the hills 
and in the vallies. It is of greater thickness on the 
hills, and less in the vallies, and in general its thick- 
ness is six or seven feet. Considering its location, 
we shall perceive that it chiefly prevails in the lower 
basin of these two rivers, and their branches the 
Yoghogheny and Kiskimenitas, all which tend, on a 
gently inclined plain, towards the Ohio, near Pitts- 
burg. Supposing the existence of this great lake, 
the end of this lake may be fixed at this spot, and the 
utmost verge of stagnant waters. 

Fossil or pit coal is well known to be formed out 
of fallen trees, gradually clogged £ind covered up by 
earthy particles, brought down by rivers and torrents. 
These vegetable heaps are not formed in the channel 
of the current, but in spots sopiewhat removed from 
it, where their position is left to be regulated by their 
own weight. This order of things is still manifest 
in many rivers of the United States, but especially in 



the Mississippi, which annually carries away an im- 
mense number of trees. Some of tb.ese are left in 
the bays and inlets which the inundations enter, but 
the greater number stop not till they reach the sea 
shore. Here the river and ocean waters meet, and 
occasion a stagnation or sluggish motion in the for- 
mer, and the trees gradually become fixed and motion- 
less, till overwhelmed and buried in the mud and 
sand. 

In ancient times, the rivers flowing from the Alleg- 
heny and Laurel Ridges, into the vale or basin of 
the Ohio, mixed, near Pittsburg, with the stagnant 
waters, at the verge of the great lake, and there depo- 
sited the trees, which the wintry and vernal torrents 
had uprooted and hurled down by thousands from the 
upper regions. These trees subsided into masses as 
level as the waters which transported them hither ; 
and as the mound of the lake was successively ex^ 
tended, the lake receded step by step. By this ope- 
ration, the vegetable depositions were gradually ex- 
tended in the same line, and ultimately formed that 
vast layer, which, ill process of time, was covered 
with mud, sand, and gravel, and assumed its present 
appearance. 

Pit coal is found in many other parts of the United 
States, and always in circumstances similar to those 
above-described. 

Evans speaks of a mine near the Muskingum, op- 
posite the mouth of Laminskicola creek, which took 
fire in 1748, and burnt for a v/hole year. This mine 



78 

>\ as produced by the process just described ; and the 
great rivers entering the Ohio would almost all of 
them make depositions of this kind, in flat parts of 
their course, and in the adjacent districts. 

The upper branch of the Potowmack, above and 
to the left of Fort Cumberland, is famous for its 
mines, of coal, pervading the downs near its bor- 
ders, in such a manner that boats may be loaded 
with this substance, while lying at the foot of the 
bank. Now this spot bears every appearance of a 
lake, formed by some of the ridges, which may be 
supposed to have once dammed up the Potowmack, 
above and below Fort Cumberland. 

In Virginia, the bed of James River, ten miles 
above the rapids at Richmond, is formed by an ex- 
tensive stiatum of coal. In a few places, where wells 
have been sunk on the left bank, there has been found, 
under a mass of red clay, 120 feet thick, a stratum 
of coal, 24 feet thick, in a bed of inclined granite. 
It is evident, that the rapids below, which is still a 
considerable obstruction to the stream, was once an 
unbroken mound, and occasioned in this place a 
swamp, or, more probably, a lake. Wherever rapids 
are found, there is a check or stagnation in the stream 
immediately above. Here the floating trees would 
be liable to entangle and fix themselves. When the 
river had made itself a passage, and its level become 
lo\\er, the floods of every year would accumulate, 
and make new additions to this mass of red clay, 
whose distant origin is clearly proved, by the resem- 



79 

blance it bears to the soil of the South-west'Moun- 
tain, and the upper vallies of this river. 

It is not impossible, however, that beds of coal may 
exist in the maritime country, whose formation can- 
not be explained in this manner, but a few instances 
of this nature ought not to overturn my general con- 
clusions, because the whole country between the sea 
and the Allegheny has been broken up by earth- 
quakes, the traces of which are every where visible, 
and these commotions have disturbed the regular 
horizontal order of the earthy and mineral strata, 
throughout its whole extent, from the St. Laurence 
to the Gulph of 'Mexico. 

Having thus unfolded the state of the soil of the 
United States, it remains for me to speak of the most 
remarkable circumstances in its physical condition, 
and that which forms it grand distinction, since no- 
thing like it is to be found in the rest of the globe : I 
mean the fall of the river St. Laurence, at Niagara. 



80 



CHAPTER III. 



Of the Cataract of' JViagara.^ and other remarkable Falls. 

SOME late travellers* have considerably elu- 
cidated this surprising physical phenomenon ; but as 
they have chiefly dwelt upon its influence, as a specta- 
cle, upon the eye, and paid little or no attention to its 
topographical circumstances, of which the spectacle 
is merely an effect, I shall confine myself principally 
to the consideration of it in the latter view, in which 
it is by no means unworthy of attention. 

It is surely a wonderful fact in geography, that a 
river, very near 2500 feet wide, and generally fifteen 
in depth, should find the level of its channel suddenly 
sink beneath its stream, and should throw down its 
entire mass of water, from a height of a hundred and 

* Travels in the United States of America, by La Rochefou- 
uault Liancourt, vol. II, and Travels in Upper Canada, by Weld, 
vol. II, which tvi^o works may be deemed a kind of portable library 
of the United States. — Y. The former of these works abounds 

with the grossest errors. — Trans. 



81 

forty-four feet, into a channel through which it pur- 
sues its subsequent course, where the spectator can 
discover no hill or ridge that could once have re- 
strained or blocked up its passage. One cannot, at 
first, conceive by what position or direction of the 
surface nature has led to the production of this asto- 
nishing scene ; but, when the process is discovered, 
we are equally astonished at the obvious simplicity 
of the means, and the grandeur of the end effected by 
them. 

To enable the reader more clearly and distinctly to 
conceive this picture, we must remind him, that the 
country between Lake Erie and the Ohio is a vast 
plain, higher, in its general level, than almost all the 
rest of the continent, as is proved by the course of 
its rivers, some of which flow into the north Atlantic, 
and others into the Gulph of Mexico. 

From the west and north-west sides, this plain 
proceeds, without interruption, from the savannahs 
bordering the Mississippi and the lakes. Southward 
and eastward, it touches the great rampart of the 
Allegheny ; but on the northern side, having skirted 
Lake Erie, and approached within six or seven miles 
of Ontario, the level of this plain is suddenly lowered, 
and a new plain commences at the foot of the decli- 
vity, more than 230 feet below the former one, whicli 
forms the verge or table of Lake Ontario. In reced- 
ing from the shore of the lake, we distinctly and easily 
perceive this change of level (see plate III, fig. 2, lett. 
r/, a^ A). At a distance, viewed from the lake, it ap- 

L 



82 

pears like a lofty rampart {a), whose side is bristled 
with forests, and which seems to interdict all passage 
beyond it. If we enter the St. Laurence, and ascend 
as far as Queenstown {b),wc presently perceive a deep 
and narrow chasm (c), from which flows the river, in 
a swift but unruffled course. The cataract still re- 
mains unexplained. This precipice stretches from 
Toronto, or even from a greater distance, and skirt- 
ing the northern shore of Lake Ontario, at an inter- 
val of one or two miles, it makes a bend towards the 
east, on the southern shore of the lake, and crosses 
the river seven miles from its mouth, and the Genes- 
see river at eight : afterwards it bends southward, 
and by a line five or six miles distant, west of the 
Seneca Lake, where I discovered its declivity*, it 
hastens to join itself with those branches of the Alleg- 
heny, from whence this lake receives its principal 
waters. 

We may add to these particulars, that the plain, 
here nearly level with the mountains, extends itself, 
with them, to the Hudson river, where it terminates 
abruptly, as at Niagara, in a steep and lofty precipice, 

* A mile and a half from Geneva, coming from Canandarqua, 
I found myself at the skirt of an amphitheatre, of a gentler and 
longer descent than that which I am going to describe, but 
affording a nobler prospect, for it presents to the single glance 
an immense flat table, on which is seen, north-west, Lake Onta- 
rio, and, on the east, a boundless extent of forest, speckled, here 
and there, by a (^ew farms and villages, and the glistening surfaces 
of the Iroquois lakes. 



83 

and presents another topographical prodigy, in a sur- 
face which the tide pervades for a hundred and sixty- 
six miles, along the very foot of a loftier surface, from 
which other rivers proceed, such as the Delaware, in 
a course of four hundred miles. 

The true mechanism of Niagara will not be so 
easily comprehended by those who approach it on the 
side of Lake Erie, in which direction I approached 
it, October 24th, 1796. From the lake, we have no 
mountain in view, except near Presque Isle, where 
some faint and remote ridges are seen, in the north- 
west quarter of Pennsylvania. The country traversed 
by the St. Laurence is a scene of continual forest, 
and the sluggish motion of the stream, scarcely at the 
rate of three miles an hour, affords no token of the 
direful commotion lower down. It is not till we 
reach the moutli of Chippcway creek, eighteen miles 
below Lake Erie, that the water assumes a quicker 
motion, and compels the boats to seek the shore, at 
a village built at this spot. Here the river expands 
into a sheet of water near two thousand feet wide, 
overshadowed on all sides by woods. Two miles 
and a half further is the fall (e). Our attention is at 
first awakened by a dull and rumbling sound, like 
the roar of a remote sea. This sound is lower or 
higher, according to the direction of the wind, but 
the eye as yet discovers nothing extraordinary. From 
hence we pursue our way, on foot, through a rugged 
waggon road, on the left bank of the river, while the 
trees shut us out from all the scene before us. Hav- 



84 

ing proceeded a mile, we perceive the river growing 
turbid and tumultuous, and, in another mile, it is 
entangled among rocks, v/hich are covered with foam. 
Beyond these breakers, we behold issuing, as it 
were, from a chasm in the forest, a cloud of vapour, 
and this is the only token, as yet, of the river. The 
noise becomes now more violent, but the cataract is 
still unseen. We continue to proceed along the 
bank, which at first did not exceed the height of ten 
or twelve feet above the water, but which soon be- 
comes twenty, thirty, and even fifty feet high, by 
which we may judge of the declivity thus far in the 
channel of the river*. Some hollows oblige us here 
to make a circuit from the river bank, which we pre- 
sently reach again, by crossing some newly enclosed 
fields, and emerging at length from the trees and 
bushes, we find ourselves along side of the cataract. 
We here behold the river fall in one sheet, twelve 
hundred feet wide, into a hollow or canal worn by 
the force of its waters, from a perpendicular height 
of about two hundred feet. It is hemmed in by two 
rocky walls, whose tops are crowned with firs, oaks, 
cedars, &c. The traveller usually surveys the fall 
from a spot where a jutting rock (i) towers above the 
abyss. Some of my companions gave this spot the 
preference. Some others, whom I joined, were told 

* The settlei^s have ah'eady made use of this descent, and con- 
sequent vapidity of the stream, by the erection of grist and saw 
mills (/i h). 



85 

that the descent to the bottom of the gulph, more 
than half a mile below, was practicable, by means of 
Simcoe's ladder, and thought we should enjoy the 
scene more completely, as objects of this kind are 
viewed most advantageously looking upward to them. 
We accordingly descended, not without difficulty, 
by a kind of stairs, which are nothing more than the 
trunks of trees, disposed conveniently, with notches 
cut in them, on the face of the declivity. Having 
reached the bottom, we re-ascended towards the fall by 
a ledge of broken rocks mixed with sand, where lay 
the bones and reliques of deer and other animals, 
who, in attempting to pass the stream above, had 
been borne down by its rapidity. 

The current ncai* us was extremely rapid, on a 
stony bed, but unaccompanied with danger. Upon 
our left, before us, was a portion of the fall, about 
two hundred feet wide. A small isle divides this 
from the great cataract. Beyond, and in front of the 
spectator, this fall moulds itself into the form of a 
horse- shoe, with an opening of about twelve hun- 
dred feet, shrouded on the right by rocks jutting out 
from the side of the chasm. For more than eighteen 
hundred feet round the spray fills the air, and des- 
cending in columns, wets the spectator to the skin. 
Having just recovered from a malignant fever, which 
I contracted at Detroit, I had neither the power nor 
inclination to proceed any further. Some of my com- 
panions undertook to reach the foot of the cataract, 
but they were soon checked by obstacles much more 



86 

formidable than they had in>agined. An English tra- 
veller, Mr. Weld, with whom I had sailed upon Lake 
Erie, had been more fortunate than we. Conducted 
by excellent guides, and profiting by leisure and 
means which we wanted, he proceeded as far as it 
was possible to do so, without certainty of perishing, 
and to satisfy my reader's curiosity, I shall extract 
his description of the scene. 

" From the foot of Simcoe's laddder you may walk 
along the strand for some distance, without inconve- 
nience, but as you approach the Horse-shoe Fall, the 
way becomes more and more rugged. In some 
places, where the cliff has crumbled down, huge 
mounds of earth, rocks, and trees, reaching to the 
water's edge, oppose your course ; it seems impos- 
sible to pass them ; and, indeed, without a guide, a 
stranger would never find his way to the opposite 
side ; for to get there it is necessary to mount nearly 
to their top, and then to crawl on your hands and 
knees through long dark holes, where passages are 
left open between the torn up rocks and trees. After 
passing these mounds, you have to climb from rock 
to rock, close under the cliff, for there is but little 
space here between the cliff and the river, and these 
rocks are so slippery, owing to the continual moisture 
from the spray, which descends very heavily, that, 
without the utmost precaution, it is scarcely possible 
to escape a fall. At a distance of a quarter of a mile 
from the Great Fall, we were as wet, owing to the 
spray, as if each of us had been thrown into the river. 



*' There is nothing whatsoever to prevent you from 
passing to the very foot of the Great Fall ; and you 
might even proceed behind the prodigious sheet of 
water that comes pouring down from the top of the 
precipice, for the water falls from the edge of a pro- 
jecting rock ; and, moreover, caverns, of a very con- 
siderable size, have been hollowed out of the rocks at 
the bottom of the precipice, owing to the violent ebulli- 
tion of the water, which extend some way underneath 
the bed of the upper part of the river. I advanced 
within about six yards of the edge of the sheet of 
water, just far enough to peep into the caverns be- 
hind it ; but here my breath was nearly taken away, 
by the violent ^^hirlwind that always rages at the 
bottom of the cataract, occasioned by the concussion 
of such a vast body of water against the rocks. I 
confess I had no inclination, at the time, to go far- 
ther; nor, indeed, any of us afterwards attempted to 
explore the dreary confines of these caverns, where 
death seemed to await him that should be daring 
enough to enter their threatening jaws. No words 
can convey an adequate idea of the awful grandeur of 
the scene at this place. Your senses are appalled by 
the sight of the immense body of water that comes 
pouring down so closely to you from the top of the 
stupendous precipice, and by the thundering sound 
of the billows dashing against the rocky sides of the 
caverns below ; you tremble with reverential fear, 
when you consider that a blast of the whirl vrind 
might sweep you from off the slippery rocks on w hicii 



88 

you stand, and precipitate you into the dreadful 
gulph beneath, from whence all the power of man 
could not extricate you ; you feel what an insignifi- 
cant being you are in the creation, and your mind is 
forcibly impressed with an awful idea of the power 
of that mighty Being, who commanded the Avaters to 
flow. 

" Since the falls of Niagara were first discovered, 
they have receded very considerably, owing to the 
disrupture of the rocks Avhich form the precipice. 
The rocks at bottom are first loosened by the con- 
stant action of the water upon them ; they are after- 
wards carried away; and those at top being thus 
undermined, are soon broken, by the weight of the 
water rushing over them : even within the memory 
of many of the present inhabitants of the country, the 
falls have receded several yards. The commodore 
of the king's vessels on Lake Erie, who had been 
employed on that lake for upwards of thirty years, 
informed me, that, when he first came into the coun- 
try, it was a common practice for young men to go to 
the island in the middle of the falls ; that after dining 
there, they used frequently to dare each other to walk 
into the river, towards certain large rocks in the 
midst of the rapids, not far from the edge of the falls, 
and sometimes to proceed through the water, even 
beyond these rocks. No such rocks are to be seen 
at present ; and v/ere a man to advance two yards 
into the river from the island, he would be inevitably 
swept away by the torrent. It has been conjectured, 



89 

as I before mentioned, that the falls of Niagara were 
originally situated at Queenstown ; and, indeed, the 
more pains you take to examine the course of the 
river, from the present falls downward, the more 
reason is there to imagine that such a conjecture is 
well founded. From the precipice nearly down to 
Queenstown, the bed of the river is strewed with 
large rocks, and the banks are broken and rugged ; 
circumstances which plainly denote that some great 
disruption has taken place along this part of the river ; 
and we need be at no loss to account for it, as there 
are evident marks of the action of water upon the 
sides of the banks, and considerably above their pre- 
sent bases. NoW the river has never been known 
to rise near these marks, during the greatest floods ; 
it is plain, therefore, that its bed must have been 
once much more elevated than it is at present. Be- 
low Queenstown, however, there are no traces on the 
banks to lead us to imagine that the level of the 
M'ater was ever much higher there than it is now. 
The sudden increase of the depth of the river, just 
below the hills at Queenstown, and its sudden expan- 
sion there, at the same time, seem to indicate that 
the waters must, for a great length of time, have fallen 
from the top of the hills, and thus have formed that 
extensive deep basin below the village. In the river, 
a mile or two above Queenstown, there is a tremen- 
dous whirlpool, owing to a deep hole in the bed. 
This hole was probably also formed by the waters 
falling, for a great length of time, on the same spot, 

M 



90 

in consequence of" the rocks which composed the 
then precipice having remained firmer than those 
at any other place did. Tradition tells us, that the 
Great Fall, instead of having been in the form of a 
horse-shoe, once projected in the middle. For a 
century past, however, it has remained nearly in the 
present form ; and as the ebullition of the water, at 
the bottom of the cataract, is so much greater at the 
centre of this fall than in any other part, and as the 
water consequently acts with more force there, in 
undermining the precipice, than at any other part, it 
is not unlikely that it may remain nearly in the same 
form, for ages to come. 

'' At the bottom of the Horse-shoe Fall is found a 
kind of white concrete substance, bj the people of 
the country called spray. Some persons have sup- 
posed that it is formed by the earthy particles of the 
water, which descending, owing to their great specific 
gravity, quicker than the other particles, adhere to the 
rocks, and are there formed into a mass. This con- 
crete substance has precisely the appearance of petri- 
fied froth; and it is remarkable, that it is found ad- 
hering to those rocks, against which the greatest 
quantities of the froth that floats upon the water is 
washed by the eddies. 

" We did not think of ascending the cliff till the 
evening was far advanced, and had it been possible 
to have found our way up in the dark, I verily be- 
lieve we should have remained at the bottom of it 
until midnight. Just as we left the foot of the Great 



91 

Fall, the sun broke through the clouds, and one of 
the most beautiful and perfect rainbows that ever I 
beheld was exhibited in the spray that arose from the 
fall. It is only at evening and morning that the rain- 
bow is seen in perfection ; for the banks of the river, 
and the steep precipice, shade the sun from the spray 
at the bottom of the fall, in the middle of the day." 

It remains for me to explain how the river extri- 
cates itself from the chasm. I pursued my way on 
foot, across the wood, by a steep path, for six miles. 
I was endeavouring to discover the outlet, when I 
suddenly lighted on the steep shelf before described. 
The Canadians denominate this place the platon^ or 
platform. My view, here disembarrassed from the 
trees, suddenly glanced over a boundless horizon. 
On the north, Ontario stretched itself before me, like 
a sea; nearer lay an extensive meadow, through 
which the St. Laurence flows, in three sweeps or 
bends. Beneath me, and, as it were, at the bottom 
of a valley, the litde village of Queenstown is seated, 
on the west bank of the river ; while, on the right, the 
river finally issues as from a cavern, by an opening 
concealed by the woods from my view. 

To those, who closely examine the situation of the 
scene, it is plaift, that the fall commences here, and 
that it has sawed through the layers of the rock, and 
thus hollowed out its channel. The chasm has been 
gradually worn away,' from age to age, till it reached 
the place where the fall now appears. Tlois opera- 
tion has continued slowly, but incessantly. The 



92 

oldest settlers in the neighbourhood, as Weld relates, 
recollect a period when the bank of the fall was seve- 
ral paces forward. An English officer, stationed for 
thirty years at Fort Erie, states several facts, clearly 
proving, that the rocks existing there thirty years 
ago, are now undermined. 

In the winter of 1797-8, the great thaw, and con- 
sequent floods, loosened great masses, which confined 
the course of the water. If the European colonists 
or travellers, to whom this region has been accessible 
for a century and a half, had made careful memoran- 
dums, from time to time, of the state of the fall, we 
should, by this time, have been able to trace the pro- 
gress of those revolutions, which are easily proved to 
have taken place, by vestiges and indications which 
present themselves at every step*. 

During five days which I passed with judge Powel, 
v.ho has made a settlement five miles from Platon^ I 
had an opportunity of revisiting the ra^'me^ at a spot 
where a large bay is formed in one of its sides [k). 
Here the vv^aters have formed a deep recess or whirl- 
pool, in which are entangled all the floating bodies, 
which cannot go any further. We observe, at this 

* It is extremely desirable that the government of the United 
States, at present under the direction of a friend to the arts and 
sciences, should order to be drawn up an exact description of the 
present state of the cataract. This 'statement, compared with 
subsequent appearances, observed from time to time, would ena- 
ble us to trace with certainty the changes that may hereafter take 
place. 



93 

place, the river, checked by the stubborn rock, car- 
ries its fall over several points, and appears to search 
out the -^veakest spot, through which it continues its 
way. 

The fall at Niagara is undoul)tedly the greatest of 
the American cataracts, but there are many others 
deserving the attention of philosophers, some on ac- 
count of their volume, and others on account of their 
height. 

The continuation of the same ridge which forms 
the Niagara falls, on the southern side of Ontario, 
occasions two or three falls in the Genessee river, 
which, taken together, are equal to Niagara, and 
which prove that this bank or ridge preserves pretty 
much the same level. I say two or three ^ because 
travellers differ among themselves as to the number, 
and not having explored them myself, I cannot settle 
the dispute. . Mr. Arrowsmith distinguishes only 
two, of which, that nearest the lake is seventy-five 
feet high, and the other ninety-six, which added to- 
gether make a hundred and seventy-one. 

Pouchot, a French officer in Canada, during the 
Canadian war, enumerates three falls^ the first of 
which is sixty feet high, the second somewhat higher, 
and the third a hundred feet in height, which in ail 
are a hundred and sixty feet French: And this total, 
the English foot being to the French nearly as four- 
teen is to thirteen, sufficiently agrees with the num- 
bers of Arrowsmith, whose authorities appear to have 
overlooked the second cascade of Pouchot. 



94 

Bougainville, the famous circumnavigator, who 
served likewise in the Canadian wars, estimates the 
second fall, in a manuscript account which he has 
shown to me, at 20 feet. This will give a total 
height of 180 feet. J^J^ow if Niagara be reckoned at 
144, and for the declivity preceding it about 50 feet 
English, which is near 46 French, the total will be 
190 French, which differs only 10 feet from Bou- 
gainville's estimate*. Below Quebec, on the north 
side of the St. Laurence, a river of secondary magni- 
tude forms a celebrated fall, called the falls of Mont- 
morenci. A sheet of water, from 46 to 50 feet 
wide, falls from a height of 220 feet, and forms a very 
picturesque appearance in the snowy flakes which are 
occasioned by so long a descent. 

Above Quebec, on the southern side, another river, 
called La Chaudiere, has a fall, not above half the 
height of the preceding ones, but its breadth is from 
225 to 230, of which Mr. Weld has given us a des- 
cription. A third fall, called the Cohoez, is that of 
the Mohawk, three miles before it enters the Hudson. 



* An anonymous, but apparently authentic writer in the Ame- 
rican Museum (vol. 8, p. 215), states the elevations at Niagara 
thus : 

1. Height of the rapids - - 58 Feet 

2 of the fall - - - 157 

S. of the hollow, or channel, to 

Platon^ seven miles - 67 

283 



95 

This name, Cohoez, appears to be an imitative sound, 
borrowed from the Indians ; and it is very remark- 
able, that the same name is bestovi^ed upon a small 
cascade, nine miles from Spa. The Cohoez is reck- 
oned by some to be 60 feet high, by others only 50 
feet. The falling stream is about 800 feet wide. It 
is roughened by numerous rocky points. 

The fourth great fall is that of the Potowmack, six 
miles above Georgetown. It has a height of 72 feet, 
and a breadth of 8 or 900. The river, whose upward 
course is through a valley, whose sides are wild as 
those of the Rhone in the Vivarais, falls in one mass, 
like the St. Laurence, into a hollow of pure rock of 
micaceous granite, cut down into a sharp wedge-like 
form. It frees itself a passage, some miles lower 
down, by the spreading of the valley in the lower 
country. 

We might enumerate many other falls, more re- 
markable for their height than the volume of the 
stream. Such is Falling Spring, on one of the upper 
branches of James River. Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes 
on Virginia, estimates its height at 200 feet English, 
but its breadth is only 15 feet. 

The fall of the Passaic, in New Jersey, is from 66 
to 70 .feet high, and 100 wide. With respect to 
what are called the Falls of St. Anthony, on the Mis- 
sissippi, above the river St. Pierre, I shall only copy 
Mr. Arrowsmith, who states the height at 29 feet. 

To these grand phenomena of nature, Europe 
offers nothing worthy of comparison, except the fall 



96 

of Terni, in Italy, and the cataract of the Rhhie at 
ShafFhausen, whose descent, according to Mr. Coxe, 
is from 70 to 80 feet. The stream is broken by 
large rocky projections, and, in this respect, as well 
as in its height, suggests a comparison with the fall 
of Potdwmack. As to Terni, it is higher than them 
all, having a descent of no less than 700 feet, but 
the stream is very inconsiderable. 

The cascades, abounding among the Alps, Appe- 
nines, and Pyrennees, do not deserve mention. The 
cataracts of the Nile, anciently so much celebrated, 
have been lately thoroughly explored, and found to 
be no more than rapids, falling over ledges of granite, 
about a foot in height when the v/aters are low, and 
thus we have a new instance of the exaggerating spirit 
of the Greeks, and of their imperfect knowledge in 
natural history and geography. 



97 



CHAPTER IV, 



Of Earthquakes and Foicanoe$t 

THOUGH North America has only been 
known about two centuries, this period, so brief in 
the annals of nature, has supplied us with numerous 
proofs, that earthquakes have been violent and fre- 
quent throughout this region, in former ages, and 
that they have occasioned those subversions, of 
which the maritime country affords continual and 
striking indications. If we ascend merely to the 
year 1628, when the first English colonists arrived, 
and deduce events down to 1782, a course of 154 
years, says Mr. Williams, we shall find mention 
made of forty-five earthquakes. His enquiries have 
established the following general facts : 

" That these earthquakes are denoted by a noise, 
resembling that of a high wind, or that sound which 
is produced by a chimney on fire. That they throw 
down the chimney tops, and sometimes even houses 
themselves ; that they have made doors and windows 



98 

rattle, and leave wells, and even many rivers dry ; that 
they make the waters turbid, and give them a fetid 
smell of liver of sulphur ; that they throw up sand from 
rents in the earth, which has the same odour ; that 
their tremors appear to flow from internal fire, which 
pushes the earth upwards, in a line generally running 
from north-west to south-cast, in the course of the 
Merrimack river, extending southward to the Potow- 
mack, and north to the St. Laurence, particularly 
affecting the direction of Lake Ontario." 

Some particulars in this writer's details have a 
striking agreement with the appearances which I have 
already enlarged upon. The odour of liver of sul- 
phur (or ammoniacal sulphure), with which the water 
and sand are impregnated, exuding from the earth, 
in large crevices or rifts, is supplied by the strata of 
schistus, which we see, under a calcareous super- 
stratum, at Niagara, and which, when exposed to the 
heat, exhales a strong sulphureous vapour. 

This schistous stratum is found in the channel of 
the Hudson, and appears, in many places, in Penn- 
sylvania and New York, among sand stone and gra- 
nite. There is reason to believe that it prevails all 
round Ontario, and under Lake Erie, and consequently 
that it forms one of the great layers of the country, 
where earthquakes have their principal focus. 

The line of this subterranean fire runs north-west 
and south-east, affecting strongly the direction of 
the sea and the Lake Ontario. This bias or tendency 
is the mdre remarkable, considering the singular 



99 

structure of the lake. The other lakes, notwithstand- 
ing their great extent, have no great depth. Erie is 
never more than 100 or 120 feet deep. Lake Supe- 
rior is easily fathomed, in several places. Ontario, 
on the contrary, is, in general, very deep, exceeding 
250 feet, and, in many places, sounded ineffectually 
with a line of 500 feet. This vast depth is some- 
times discovered near the shore. From these cir- 
cumstances, the inference is clear, that the bed of the 
lake is the crater of an extinguished volcano. This 
conclusion is strengthened by the many volcanic sub- 
stances found upon its shores, and of which skilful eyes 
would, no doubt, discover many other specimens ; by 
the shape of the great ledge or cliff which forms an 
almost circular border to the lake, and which every 
where evinces, to reflecting observers, that the flat of 
Niagara once extended to the midst of this lake, and 
that it has been broken up and engulphed by the ac- 
tion of a volcano. 

The existence of this furnace agrees with all the 
traces of earthquakes hitherto mentioned ; and these 
two agents, which we here find united, prove at once 
the existence of subterranean fires, at a great but un- 
known depth beneath the surface, and explain that 
confusion in which the strata of the Atlantic or mari- 
time region is at present found. It likewise explains 
why the calcareous, and even the granitic strata, have 
so great an inclination as between 45 and 80 degrees, 
their shattered masses beingheaped together in the pits 
or chasms formed by great explosions. It is to this 



100 

breach in the bed of isinglass that the little cataracts 
are owing ; and this fact shows us, that this secret 
combustion extended, beyond the Potowmack, as far 
south as this bank itself. 

There is doubtless some communication between 
this bank of talc and that of the Antilles. 

I have already observed, that no trace of earth- 
quakes is to be found in the western country ; that 
the Indian languages contain no word corresponding 
with this phenomenon : I may add, from the autho- 
rity of Dr. Barton, that they no longer have in use a 
name equivalent to volcano, of which they can per- 
ceive no vestiges amidst the lake, but of which there 
are numerous remains on the Allegheny. I was in- 
formed, at Detroit, that the northern Indians relate a 
story of a mountain, somewhere far inland, which 
sometimes throws out smoke ; but the report wants 
a surer foundation. 

We may reasonably hope, that, in process of time, 
learned associations may take place, in the United 
States, who may employ, in geological investigation, 
more steadfast and experienced means, and thus make 
greater discoveries, than it is possible for single travel- 
lers to accomplish. 

Such investigations cannot fail to furnish new and 
valuable materials for the history of the globe, and 
will tend to confirm the conjecture of some natural- 
ists, M'hich I have likewise adopted, that North Ame- 
rica has emerged from the sea, at a later period than 
South America, or the greater part of the eastern 



101 

continent. These waters, whether fresh or saline, 
fluvial or marine, once covered the surface of this 
globe, to a greater height than that of the most ele- 
vated ridges, and for so long a time as to dissolve all 
these matters, which were crystallized after their eva- 
poration or subsiding. 

I shall now proceed to some details respecting the 
climate of this country. 



102 



CHAPTER V. 



Of the Climate. 



BY climate, strictly taken, we ought to under- 
stand nothing more than the degree of latitude, but 
as the heats or colds of a country have some connec- 
tion with the degree of its latitude, we have now con- 
nected with this term the customary temperature of 
the atmosphere. Yet it is not strictly true, that the 
temperature of a country is necessarily regulated by 
the latitude. On the contrary, it seems to be modi- 
fied by, and sometimes wholly to depend upon, vari- 
ous circumstances of the surface. Thus, this tem- 
perature is materially affected by the scarcity or 
prevalence of trees or of water, by the height of its 
general level above the sea, by the quarter to which 
its slopes are turned, and, above all, by the kind, 
force, and direction of those streams of air called 
winds. Hence it follows, that the condition of the 
surface essentially influences the temperature or cli- 
mate. This truth will receive powerful confirmation, 



103 

from the details into which I shall now enter of the 
aerial phenomena of the United States. 

1. The climate of the maritime region is colder in 
winter, and warmer in summer, that that of the coun- 
tries of Europe under the same parallels. 

The historians of America and naturalists have 
long ago noticed with surprise, that the climate of 
the sea coast was, by many degrees, colder in winter 
than the parallel regions in Europe, and even in 
Asia and Africa, adjacent to the Mediterranean ; but 
they seem to have overlooked a circumstance equally 
remarkable, which is, that the heat of summer is, in 
like manner, greater by many degrees, than that of 
the eastern hemisphere. I shall give particular ex- 
amples of both these peculiarities. In the northern 
parts of New England, between 42° and 43°, by 
observations made at Salem, near Boston, during 
seven years, by Mr. Edward Holyoke,*, and com- 
pared with twenty years of observation made at Man- 
heimf, it appears, that the temperature of Salem is 
higher in summer and lower in winter than that of 
many cities of Europe. The difference will appear 
in the following table. 





Lat. 


Lowest H 


ighest 


Var. 


Rome 


41° 53' 


32 


86 


54 


Marseilles 


43° 17' 


23 


881 


651 


Padua 


45° 22' 


H 


^n 


87| 


Salem 


420 35^ 


12 below 


1021 


1141 



* Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, vol. I. 
t Ephemerides Meteorologicx Palatini Manheim. 



104 

Wc may observe, in this table, the difference 
throughout the year is 114! degrees, while this differ- 
ence at Rome is only 54 degrees, at Marseilles 65, 
and at Padua 87. 

Generally in Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, 
and Massachusetts, countries situated between 22** 
and 45°, parallels corresponding with the south of 
France, and the north of Spain, the earth is covered, 
every winter, with snow for three or four months, so 
as to make the use of sleds and sleighs universal. 
The therrhometer, generally, in winter, between 32^ 
and 10 degrees, sometimes descends so low as 5, 1, 
and even 8 below 0. Mr. Belknap, the historian of 
New Hampshire, has observed it, at Portsmouth, 
north of Salem, at 18 degrees below 0, and S. Wil- 
liams, the historian of Vermont, at 26 degrees below 
0, at Rutland, at the foot of the Green Mountains. 

A little farther north, namely, in Canada, at 46° and 
and 47° latitude, which corresponds with the middle 
of France, the snow begins to fall in November, and 
continues on the ground till the end of April, a period 
of six months, from four to six feet deep, with a 
clear and dry air. At Quebec, the mercury usually 
descends to 13 and 22 degrees below ; nay, the 
mercury was known, in 1790, to freeze*, which im- 
plies a still greater descent. Now such an instance 
seldom or never occurs in Europe, in latitudes be- 

* Llancoui't's Travels, yoI. II, p. 207. 



105 

low that of Stockholm and Petersburg, which are 
situated at 60°*. 

This lo^v temperature in winter gives rise to some 
curious appearances, as to the expansive force of 
water in freezing. 

Major Edward Williams triedh the following expe- 
riment at Quebec : He filled iron bombs with water. 
He closed the orifice with a tompion, driven close, 
and then exposed them to the action of the air. 

If the bomb had any cracks or defects, it burst at 
the instant of congelation, and the enclosed ice shot 
out small masses from its general surface, like wings 
or fins ; but when the bomb was sound, the wooden 
stopper was ejected, with a loud report, and to the 
distance of from 60 to 415 feet, though weighing two 
pounds and a half, and was found with a match or 
fusee of ice fixed in it, six or seven inches long. 
From these facts he infers, that water, in congealing, 
dilates itself in the ratio of one seventeenth or one 
eighteenth of its proper bulk. 

At Montreal, above Quebec, the snows are of 
shorter duration, by two months, than lower down 
the river ; and further upward, at Niagara, they are 
shorter than at Montreal, by an equal portion of time. 
This is exactly contrary to appearances elsewhere 

* The mean cold at Petersburg, for twenty years, from 1772 
to 1792, according to the reports of the Russian Academy of 
Sciences, was at 23 degrees below 0, but the greatest cold is not 
mentioned. The ice is formed 25th September, and melts 25th 
April, as it does at Quebec. 





106 

along the coast, and will serve to confirm a theory to 
be hereafter explained. 

In Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire, the 
heats are equally intense, from their commencement 
at the summer solstice. For forty or fifty days to- 
gether, the mercury is frequently observed to exceed 
77 degrees, and sometimes rises to 86 and 90. Few 
years pass at Salem without its rising to 99 and 100 
degrees, which is the temperature of the Persian 
Gulph and the coasts of Arabia. This temperature 
reigns in many other parts of New England. At 
Rutland, S. Williams has seen the mercury at 93 
degrees. What is more surprising, at Quebec, and 
on the shores of Hudson's Bay, iii the latitude of 
59°, they suffer, for twenty or thirty days, a heat of 
from 95 to 99 degrees, which is the more injurious, 
as the constitution is unprepared for it, and since it 
is accompanied either by a dead calm, or by a Avarm, 
humid, suffocating wind from the south. Since the 
winter's cold is equal to 35 and 40, and even, at 
Prince of Wales's Fort, to 51 degrees below 0, it 
follows, that the annual variation is from 130 to 135 
degrees of Fahrenheit. 

In the middle states, which are those southward of 
New York, throughout Pennsylvania, New Jersey, 
and Maryland, the winters are shorter, and the snows 
less abundant and more transient. They rarely last 
longer than fifteen or twenty days, but t^ie heats are 
not less fierce and violent. They become settled 
about the middle of June, and prevail, with little re- 



107 

mission, for six or seven weeks. Towards the end 
of October, they begin to decline. 

At Philadelphia, in the latitude of 39° 55', and 
corresponding, in this respect, witli Madrid, Valen- 
cia, and Naples, the mercury sinks, every winter, to 
14 and 9, and, in some seasons, to 5 and 1. For 
several days together, I have seen it 6 and 8 below 0. 
This cold is so intense, that the Delaware, notwith- 
standing its tide of six feet, and its breadth of a mile, 
is sometimes frozen over in twenty-four hours. It 
remains thus fixed almost every winter, for twenty, 
thirty, and sometimes forty days, at one or two inter- 
vals. There is generally, in the course of each sea- 
son, two or three breakings up, which take place most 
commonly between the thirtieth and fortieth day after 
the solstice. 

In the year 1788, on the 4th and 5th of February, 
the mercury sunk, in one night, from 27 to 4 below 0, 
and the river was frozen fast in the evening of next 
day. 1764, December 31st, between the hours of 
ten at night and eight in the morning, it froze suffi- 
ciently hard to bear passengers. In this sudden me- 
tamorphosis from liquid to solid, I have observed, 
says Dr. Rush, a fume or vapour rise from the sur- 
face, in, so dense a column, that the people collected 
in admiring crowds to behold it. 

At the summer solstice, and even for twenty days 
after it, the heats are so intense, at Philadelphia, that 
the streets are deserted from noon till five o'clock, 
and most of the inhabitants retire to repose after 



108 

dinner^. The thermometer often rises to 88 degrees. 
There are instances of its ascent to 95 and 99. In 

* A native of that city will smile at this statement. The after- 
dinner nap, or desta^ is taken only by the old, infirm, or indolent, 
and not by a larger proportion of the people than in the north of 
Europe. At noon and an hour after, the streets are most busy 
and frequented, the only noticeable circumstance being that a few' 
of the passengers have umbrellas, and the rest prefer the shaded 
side of the street. The truth is, that our manners do not accom- 
modate themselves to the climate, either in winter or summer, 
but we follow, in most respects, the fashion of our ancestors, who 
came from the temperate atmosphere of Europe. Strangers, 
from the torrid zone, especially from the islands, complain ex- 
ceedingly of the heats of Philadelphia, when the mercury reaches 
85 degrees, though natives of that city read, write, or pursue their 
mechanical vocations, without sensible inconvenience, in a heat of 
from 86 to 89. The writer of this note has been sitting at his 
ease, in a spacious room, in an airy situation, surrounded by 
trees ; at six o'clock, P. M.> observing the noon-day heats remit- 
ted, he has looked at the glass, and found it 89 degrees. This 
happened several days together, during the present summer, 
1804. He has often observed men working diligently in the 
field, in a heat of 87, and has hiinself walked five miles, in a dusty, 
shadeless road, at noon day, with a black beaver hat on his head, 
when the heat was 91, in the shade of an adjacent wood. Penn- 
sylvania farmers frequently drive the plough and the wain, when 
the hand would be blistered by touching the iron work of these 
machines. At Lichfield, in Connecticut, at nine o'clock in a July 
morning, the writer's hand has literally been burnt., by laying it 
by chance on the tire of a cart-wheel, before a blacksmith's shop. 
These instances prove, at once, the great heats of the American 
climate, and the influence of constitution and bodily habit to ena- 
ble the natives to support them. These principles operate bene- 
ficially, in spite of absurd modes in eating and dressing, and the 



109 

the course of the day, it will sometimes rise from 65 
and 70 to 80 and 85, a variation of 15 and 20 de- 
grees. What renders this heat particularly irksome, 
is the almost absolute repose of the air, particularly 
for three hours after noon, and the moisture that 
loads the atmosphere. From this detail it appears, 
that the compass of the annual variation is from 95 
to 105 degrees. 

Dr. Rush was the first who noticed the analogy 
subsisting between the climate of Pekin and that of 
Philadelphia ; and a close examination will enable us 
to discover a striking similitude between the climate 
of North America and that of northern China and 
eastern Tartary. 

In the southern states, Virginia, Carolina, and 
Georgia, the duration and intensity of the cold declines 
in the same proportion as the latitude. The parallel 
of Potowmack, or more exactly that of the Patapsco, 
forms, in this respect, a distinguishing line. The 
dominion of snow is bounded here, and he who tra- 
vels southward may notice the sleigh before every 
farmer's door, till he descends the steeps, at the foot 
of which rolls the Patapsco, after which he will see 
that vehicle no more. 

almost general disuse of the bath. Vast numbers pass through 
a long life, amidst all these heats, clothed in cloth, flannel, and 
black fur hats, and lying on a feather bed at night, drinking no- 
thing but wine and porter, and eating strong meats three times a 
day, and never allowing water to touch any part of them but lacli- 
extremities, for a year together — Trans. 



110 

In the interior of the country, towards the Blue 
Riclge, the snows prevail somewhat beyond this lijuit, 
on account of the g^reater elevation of the surface. 
This quarter, nevertheless, is exposed to severe frosts, 
for forty days ensuing the winter solstice. At Nor- 
folk, on the 4th February, 1798, there fell, in one 
night, five feet of snovv'. Even at Charleston, in the 
latitude of 30°, which answers to that of Morocco, 
the mercury sunk to 23 degrees, according to Lian- 
court, and the earth was frozen for a depth of two 
inches, in one night*. 

Along the coast, below the Potowmack, from a 
month before the solstice, the heat is so violent, that, 
for four months together, the mercury rises, in the af- 
ternoon, notwithstanding the sea breeze, to 83 and 86 
degrees. At Savannah, it reaches 102 and 106 de- 
grees, a much higher temperature than is known in 
Egypt, where the medium is 88 degrees in the shade ; 
and even this temperature is there moderated by 
a constant breeze, and a pure dry air. Henry Ellis 
observed the mercury, at Savannah, at 100 degrees. 
He complains that, for several nights together, it 

* It is this which prevents tiie common grov/th of the orange; 
but it does not injure the olive, of Avhich valuable product Mr. 
Jefferson has made a present to his country, especially if it be the 
Corsican olive, which, in 1792, I saw flourish, in spite of a tem- 
perature of 27 and 25 degrees, in the mountains of Corsica, which, 
are 3000 feet above the sea. The Corsicans even affirm, that eight 
days of snow, a foot deep, destroys noxious insects, and insures 
its growth. 



Ill 

never sunk below 96. In his cellars it stood at 80*, 
and under his arm at 96 degrees. Dr. Rrimsay, who 
made his observations at Charleston, has seen it rise 
to 95 degrees, only once in five years. But Charles- 
ton, situated at the mouth of a small river, shaken 
by the tide, enjoys the sea breeze, and passes for a 
cool place, among the people of the country, who 
make it their asylum in summer. 

It follows that, in the southern states, the annual 
variation is from 70 to 75 degrees, and the reader has 
doubtless observed, that these variations decrease as 
we a:o southward. Thus it amounts to 135 des-rees 
near Hudson's Bay, to 110 in Massachusetts, and to 
100 in Pennsylvania. It sinks to 80 degrees in Caro- 
lina. Advancing nearer the tropics, the annual varia- 
tion, in most places, exceeds not 45 and 50 degrees. 
At Martinique, Porto Rico, and other windward isles, 
the temperature, moderated by the sea breeze, mounts 
no higher than 95, nor sinks below 55, a difference 
of 40 degrees. On the ridge of hills, near Caraccas, 
at 10° north latitude, a height of more than 7000 feet 
above the sea, the mercury is stationary between 55 
and 80 degrees. At Surinam, near the sea shore, it 
vibrates between 88 and 93 degrees. The traveller 
going from these latitudes northward, in summer, 
finds the beat oppressive and irksome, exactly in pro- 
portion to his progress in this direction ; and as to 
myself, I greatly prefer the temperature of Cairo to 

* Seq Air.eiican MuseinTi, vol. VIII. 



112 

that of Philadelphia. It is true, that, as we go to- 
wards the mountains, the heat, though still fervent, 
becomes more supportable, and as we approach their 
summits, we meet with an atmosphere lighter, purer, 
and more elastic. In general, however, in what are 
called the temperate zones, especially in low and 
humid regions, the temperature is more unpleasant 
than in what are called the hot countries. Within 
the limits of the torrid zone, the temperature is more 
equable than in the contiguous regions, and far more 
favourable to health, and to vital energy, if the air 
were less saturated with exhalations from animal and 
vegetable putrescence, and if strangers, especially 
those from Europe, did not carry with them their 
voracious attachment to gross meats and inflamma- 
tory liquors. 

The English and American philosophers, accord- 
ing to the genius of their country, which is addicted 
to system, are accustomed to deduce, from these ex- 
tremes of heat and cold, a mean term, which they 
set up as the standard of temperature. Having stated, 
for instance, as the extremes, at Salem, 10 degrees 
below and 100 degrees, the intermediate degrees 
are 110, and taking the half, or 55, as the middle 
term, they suppose 45 degrees to be the standard or 
customary temperature of the country. They apply 
the same process to the variations of the same day, 
and if, as it often happens in the United States, there 
are 20, 30, or 40 degrees of variation in the twenty- 
four hours, they fix upon the medium between these 



113 

as the temperature of the day ; but the truth is, this 
supposed temperature never takes place : the transi- 
tions are generally so quick, within the compass of 
the same day, that the middle term is imperceptibly 
passed over by the rising or sinking mercury ; and 
even, in the course of a whole year, the temperature 
is seldom or never stationary at this middle point for 
more than a hundred hours. This arithmetical pro- 
cess is somewhat less erroneous, when employed in 
calculating the prevalence of winds, by the number 
of hours and days that each prevails ; but when these 
tables are not compared with the state of the thermo- 
meter, during the prevalence of each wind, they fail 
to instruct us in a point of chief importance, which 
is, the connection between the direction of the wind 
and the temperature, the latter being chiefly, if not 
entirely, dependent on the former. 

A better method of determining the general or 
medial temperature of a country is suggested by Mr. 
Williams, who proposes to take it from the tempera- 
ture of the earth, as found in deep wells or caverns. 
In pursuance of this plan, he ascertained the tempera- 
ture of wells at Rutland, in Vermont, at the depth of 
45 feet, to be - - 44 deg. 

In different places in Massachusetts, 49 

At Philadelphia, - - 58 

In Virginia, according to Jefferson, 57 

At Charleston, according to Dr. Ramsa}', 63 

We here observe a gradation corresponding with 
the distance from the pole, which adds new force to 

p 



114 

De Saussure, in opposition to experiments confuting 
the old opinion, that the mean temperature of the 
whole globe is 55 degrees, and proves that heat is 
proportioned to the action of the sun's rays on the 
surface of the earth. 

3. The daily variations are greater and more abrupt 
in the maritime country than in Europe. 

The great changes, incident to the atmosphere of the 
coast, display themselves not only in the compass of 
one season, but in that of a single month, w^eek, and 
even day. This vicissitude particularly takes place in 
the middle states, and is greater in the flat than in 
the mountainous country. This, no doubt, happens 
from the situation of the middle states, between two 
adverse atmospheres, the polar and the tropical, be- 
coming thus a scene of continual warfare between 
large masses of hot and cold air. 

It seems, says Dr. Rush, as if our climate were a 
compound of all other climates in the w^orld. We 
have the damps and glooms of Britain in the spring, 
the scorching rays of Africa in summer, the mild 
temperature of Italy in June, the cold and snow of 
Norway, and the ice of Holland, in the winter, some- 
what of the storms of the West Indies at every sea- 
son, and the capricious winds and fluctuating weather 
of Great Britain throughout the year. 

In winter, especially in January and February, the 
temperature often varies fourteen, eighteen, and even 
twenty-eight degrees, in the course of eighteen hours, 
which has a pernicious influence on health. In 



115 

twenty-four hours, on the 4th and 5th of February, 
1788, the mercury sunk from 37 to 4'h degrees below 
0, a difference of 41^ degrees. Sometimes the south 
and east winds raise the temperature to 54 or 58 
degrees, and brings on a sudden thaw* ; and this 
temperature, continuing for some days, has been 
known to induce premature vegetation, and peach 
trees have been covered with blossoms in the middle 
of February : but April being the regular and cus- 
tomary limit of the cold weather, the wind never fails 
to return to the north-east and north-west quarters ; 
the earth is bound again with frosts, and winter re- 
sumes his reign with as much severity as ever. 

Similar vicissitudes take place in summer, and the 
intense heats of the day are usually succeeded by a 
night of piercing cold. It has been noted, that the 
higher the mercury rises in the afternoon, the lower 
it sinks at day-break the ensuing day, three o'clock, 
in the afternoon and morning, being the extremes of 
diurnal temperature. When, at mid-day, the glass 
has risen to 86, and even to 90 degrees, it has some- 
times fallen, on the ensuing night, to 65 and 60. 
The descent from 80 degrees in the day time is usu- 
ally to 68 at night ; but from 60 it sinks only to 56. 
These changes are most apt to occur immediately 
after thunder storms, with or without rain. In the 



* Thaws are sometimes so rapid, that the snow melts to the 
eye, and liquifies as fast as if hot water were poured upon it. — 
Trans. 



116 

summer of 1775, after a storm of rain and thunder, 
the mercur}^ sunk 20 degrees, in an hour and a half. 
If we except July and August, there are very few 
evenings in the year on which fire would not prove 
agreeable*. 

These changes are far less violent among the hills in 
western Pennsylvania. There the cold is more equa- 
ble in winter, and the heat less intense in summer, 
and, in either case, the air is more pure, wholesome,, 
and respirable, than in the lower country, where the 
atmosphere is moist and dense. 

What Dr. Rush here says of Pennsylvania, is 
equally true of the southern part of New York, of 
New Jersey, and Maryland, and may also, in a con- 
siderable degree, be affirmed of the coast of Virginia 
and the Carolinas. In Charleston, variations of 18 
and 22 degrees are often experienced, at all seasons, 
in the same day. This variation has sometimes 
amounted to 27 and 35 degrees, and Dr. Ramsay has 
recorded one revolution, in the course of less than 
fifteen hours, equal to 50 degrees. October 28th, 
1793, the mercury sunk from 18 to 3 degrees, in 
twelve hoursf. 

Mr. Ellis tells us, that all the changes and variety 
of weather, experienced in the temperate zone, 

* Fires are rarely seen, in the middle states, between the 10th 
of May and the 10th of October. June, July, and August are the 
months in which the evenings are much too warm for fire.— ^ 
Trans* 

t Liancourt. 



117 

throughout the year, have happened at Hudson's Bay 
in twenty-four hours ; but he thinks himself justified 
in extendhig this observation much farther, for, in 
his cellar, the thermometer stood at 81, in the next 
story at 102, and in the upper one at 105 degrees ; 
yet these violent heats would still be tolerable, were 
it not for the sudden changes that take place in the 
temperature. December 10, 1757, the temperature 
was 86, and on the 11th of the same month it was at 
38, a difference of 48 degrees. 

In the norther^ regions, the same fluctuations pre- 
vail, with this difference, that the greatest changes 
are usually, in the north, from cold to heat, and, in 
the south, from heat to cold ; and, consequently, the 
effects produced by these vicissitudes are, in the 
north, chiefly connected with contraction, in the 
south, with dilatation. In Bougainville's manuscript 
journal, I found the following facts recorded : 

December 11th, 1756, Quebec. Within the last 
three days, the glass has risen from 10 degrees below 
to 32. To-day it rains and thaws, and a south 
wind makes the weather as sultry as in spring. 

December 14th, afternoon. The wind has just 
veered round to north-west, and it freezes hard. 
The glass is at 25 degrees. On the 15th, it rose to 
79 degrees. A mild gale from the south-west, and 
a beautifully clear sky. 

January 18th, 1757. The wind north-west ; the 
glass 29 degrees below 0. Clear, and intensely cold. 
Travellers arrive with their noses, hands, and feet 



118 

frozen. The cold more moderate in the lower town 
than in the fort, the latter halving a north-west expo- 
sure, and the former being sheltered on that side. 

At Hudson's Bay, the accurate and judicious ob- 
servers Urnphraville and Robson mention similar 
facts. They rclat'C that, during the twenty or thirty 
hot days of summer, the nights continue sultry, but 
in winter, gales from the south raise the temperature 
from 8 and 12 degrees below to 32, which occasions 
the sultriness which Bougainville complained of at 
Quebec, a circumstance surprising to the inexperi- 
enced natives of France or Britain, who shiver in the 
temperature of 32 degrees ; but the sensation is simi- 
lar to what is produced in us by a change from 32 to 
75 degrees, or in an African by a change from 75 to 
115, our notions of heat and cold being, in all cases, 
merely comparative. Hence it is, that, at Charleston, 
people complain of the cold, when the temperature 
does not exceed 55 or 60 degrees, and consume, in 
consequence, as much fuel annually, according to 
Liancourt, as at Philadelphia, where the mercury falls 
35 degrees lower. 

From all these materials, and from daily observa- 
tions I myself made on the American atmosphere, it 
was easy to perceive a correspondence between these 
vicissitudes of temperature and certain changes in the 
wind. When the wind changed from north-east or 
north-west to south or south-east, a transition imme- 
diately took place from cold to heat ; whereas the 
opposite transitions, from heat to cold, always accom- 



119 

panied changes of the wind from south or south-east 
to north-west or north-east, throughout the whole 
extent of maritime country, from the Gulph of Flo- 
rida to Hudson's Bay. Here we have one material 
for erecting a tlieory, by which the phenomena of 
these climates may be, explained ; but as a few facts 
form an inadequate foundation for a rational theory, 
I shall not be in haste to draw my general conclusions, 
but proceed to quote some appearances, which, at 
first sight, may look like exceptions to the above- 
mentioned rule. 

3. The temperature of the vallies of the Ohio and 
the Mississippi is warmer, in the proportion of three 
degrees of latitude, than that of the maritime districts. 

This singularity deserves a more careful examina- 
tion, because it has never hitherto, to my knowledge, 
been accurately described. For the principal fact, 
I shall borrow Mr. Jefferson's own words*. 

*' It is remarkable, that, proceeding in the same 
parallel of latitude westwardly, the climate becomes 
colder, in like manner as when you proceed directly 
north. This increase of cold continues till you reach 
the top of the Allegheny, which is the highest land 
between the ocean and the Mississippi. Thence, 
descending in the same parallel to the river, the 
change is reversed, and, if we credit travellers, it be- 
comes warmer than it is, in the same latitude, on the 
sea coast. Their testimony is strengthened by the 

* See Jefferson's Notes on Vii-g;inia. 



120 

vegetables and animals known to subsist and multiply 
there naturally, which does not happen on the coast. 
Thus, catalpas grow spontaneously on the Mississippi, 
as far as the latitude of 37°, and reeds as far as 38°; 
paroquets Mdnter on the Scioto, in the latitude of 39°. 
In 1779, the thermometer was at 90 degrees at Mon- 
ticello, when it was 110 at Kaskaskias." 

My own observations enable me to confirm and 
extend these statements of Mr. Jefferson. While 
travelling, in the summer of 1796, from Washington 
city to Vincennes, on the Wabash, I made some 
notes, among which the following are the most im- 
portant : 

1795, May 5. Strawberries appear, for the first 
time, at Annapolis, near the shore, and at the level of 
the sea. 

May 12. The first strawberries at Washington, 
where the land is somewhat higher. 

May 30. The first at Frederickstown, at the foot 
of the Blue Ridge, about 120 feet above the sea. 
Here cherries ripen as late as at Albany, 140 miles 
north, but on a level with the tide. 

June 6. The first strawberries in the vale of the 
Shenandoah, westward of the Blue Ridge, and pro- 
bably 900 feet above the sea. 

July 1. At Monticello, the wheat harvest com- 
menced, at the foot of the South-west Mountain, 
fronting the south and south-east, while, on the oppo, 
site side, it did not begin till the 12th or 14th. 



121 

July 10. Harvesting at Rock-fish Gap, on the 
summit of the Blue Ridge, 1150 feet high. It was 
earlier, by two days, in Staunton valley, 230 feet 
lower. 

July 12, Harvest on Jackson's Mountain, a height 
of 2200 feet. 

July 20. Harvest on the Allegheny, 2600 feet 
high. 

Thus we perceive the harvest later and later, as we 
go higher and higher. 

Descending the opposite side, the harvest at Green- 
briar, in a low plain, took place on the 15th, or five 
days earlier than on the summit. 

In the valley of the Grand Kenhawah, at the mouth 
of Elk creek, it began on the 6th. 

At Gallipolis, on the Scioto, on the 11th. 

At Cincinnati, further north, on the 15th. 

Wheat is not grown at Vincennes. The products 
chiefly attended to are maize, tobacco, and cotton, all 
which have been deemed congenial to a hot climate. 

July 1. Harvest had commenced at Kaskaskias, 
and this was as early as at Monticello. 

The second line from the Allegheny is less uni- 
form than that just described, by reason of the greater 
irregularity of the surface, and varieties in the lati- 
tude. Cincinnati is not so forward as Gallipolis, be- 
cause it lies somewhat north, and is, at the same 
time, less screened from the boreal blasts, and less 
accessible to kindly gales from the south. The ear- 
lier harvests of the Kenhawah valley, notwithstanding 



122 

its superior elevation, are owing to its being narrower 
and having steeper sides, which concentrate the heat. 
The heat I found greater here than elsewhere. The 
influence of different aspects is exemplified in our 
ordinary gardens, where the ripening of fruits depends 
upon the quarter of the sky to which they are exposed, 
on the distance or vicinity of walls, which reverberate 
the sun's rays, or ward off" chilling and unwholesome 
blasts. It is true, however, that the law resulting 
from elevation is generally fulfilled in the parallel 
mentioned, and that the time of harvest coincides, 
with remarkable exactness, at Monticello and Kas- 
kaskias, which are both in the same latitude, and 
nearly at the same level above the sea. 

It must not be denied, that there are several ap- 
pearances, in the state of the temperature and the 
progress of vegetation, in the western country, not to 
be explained by the elevation or aspect. One of the 
most remarkable of these appearances has been no- 
ticed within a few years, but is now confirmed by 
daily observation. Naturalists have observed, in com- 
paring the places, on either side of the Allegheny, 
where certain plants grow spontaneously, that there is 
a difference between them, equivalent to three degrees 
of latitude, in favour of the valley of the Ohio and 
the Mississippi. Trees and herbs are found on the 
western side of the mountains, three degrees farther 
north than the same products are found spontaneously 
growing on the eastern side : thus, cotton, which 
flourishes at Cincinnati and Vincennes, in latitude 



123 

39% cannot be raised, in Carolina, further north than 
35° or 36°. It is the same with the catalpa, sassa- 
fras, papaw, pakan or Illinois nut, and many other 
plants, which I am not sufficiently conversant with 
this branch of natural history to enumerate*. 

Through all the seasons, proofs of the milder tem- 
perature of the tramontane regions continually occur. 
All the intelligence I was able to collect, in my jour- 
nies on the Ohio, and during my residence at Galli- 
polis. Limestone, Washington f Kentucky J ^ Lexing- 
ton, Louisville, Cincinnati, and Vincennes, agreed as 
to the following facts : 

That winter commences near the solstice, and does 
not prevail, with any rigour, longer than seven weeks 
after it. Even during that period, there are intervals 
of mild, genial weather. The mercury, in general, 
falls no lower than to 20 or 18 degrees. Frost is 
seen, for a few days, in October, and after vanishing 
for three, four, or five weeks, re-appears at the end of 
November, but is not permanent or rigorous till near 
January. The brooks, creeks, and pools are then 
frozen, but seldom continue fast bound more than a 
fortnight ; frequently they are free again in three days. 

In the winter of 1796, the mercury fell to 2 degrees 
below 0, and the Allegheny, Monongahela, and Ohio 
were frozen over from the 28th of November to the 
30th of January, a period of 65 days, but this was 



* Dr. Barton, the celebrated botanist of Pennsylvania, told me 
he was preparing a treatise on this interesting subject. 



124 

considered as a case without example. The Wabash 
is usually frozen in winter, but only for five, ten, or 
fifteen days. In Kentucky, and throughout the vale of 
the Ohio, the snow remains from three days to ten, 
and even in January they experience hot sultry days, 
when the mercury rises to 66 and 72, with the wind 
at south or south-west, and a clear sky. The spring 
is ushered in with showers, blown from the north- 
east and north-west, and the heats become great and 
permanent within forty days after the equinox. For 
sixty or seventy days ensuing the summer solstice, 
they prevail with the greatest intensity, the thermo- 
meter ranging between 90 and 95. This period is 
tempestuous, storms almost daily occurring on the 
Ohio, and these storms rather aggravate than mode- 
rate the heat. Rain is* sometimes brought by the 
south and soutli-west winds, and sometimes is formed 
by the vapours rising copiously from the river and 
the immense forest that overshadows all the country. 
The rain, which descends in torrents, gives only 
momentary relief to the parched soil, and the heat of 
the ensuing day obliging it to re-ascend, it forms 
heavy morning mists, which afterwards become 
clouds, and thus continually renews the electrical 
process. The river waiter is at the temperature of 
64 or 66. After a night of dead calm, a breeze is 
called up from the west or south-west, between eight 
and ten in the morning, which dies away about four 
in the afternoon. 



125 

The prevailing wind throughout the year is the 
south-west. This current ascends by the course of 
the Ohio, and comes, by the way of the Mississippi, 
from the Gulph of Mexico. This wind is hot and 
tempestuous in the valley of the Kenhawah, the tem- 
perature of which it raises, being checked by the 
ridges of the mountains. Its direction conforms to 
the winding course of the Ohio, having sometimes 
the direction of west and south ; but it is always one 
and the same current of air, and prevails for five- 
sixths of the year, leaving to the other winds only 
one-sixth. It prevails equally over all Kentucky, but it 
is not there attended with exactly the same effects, for 
while the vale of Ohio, in a breadth of twelve or 
fifteen miles, is moistened by copious rains, the con- 
tiguous country is parched with drought, sometimes 
for three months together, and the cultivators have 
the vexation of beholding, from the summit of the 
hills that border this vale, a sea of mists and rains, 
whose skirts touch, but never overpass, this border. 

At the autumnal equinox, rains come with north- 
east, south-east, and even north-ivest winds. The 
coolness they induce is the fore-runner of frost. 
Autumn is a season of mild, serene weather, and sur- 
passes the other seasons in pleasantness, of which, 
however, there are only two, summer and winter, for 
spring is quite unknown in North America. 

Such is the climate of Kentucky, and the vale of 
the Ohio, and it extends, with little variation, to a 
great distance. We must proceed very far north 



126 

before we meet with any remarkable diversity, or 
find any correspondence between the temperature and 
seasons of the maritime and inland regions. Even at 
Niagara the seasons are so mild, that severe cold does 
not prevail more than two months, though this is the 
loftiest part of the great platform. This circumstance 
agrees not with the laws arising from elevation. 

The winter in Genessee, as it has been described 
to me, partakes not of the rigours of the same season 
as they are experienced in Vermont and New Hamp- 
shire, but agrees with the winters at Philadelphia, 
three degrees farther south. In that city, it has often 
been remarked, that frosts occur, more or less, every 
month in the year, except July. Now this cannot be 
said of any place in Genessee, farther south than the 
Oneida village, latitude 43° ; whereas, east of the 
mountains, at Albany, frost occurs every month of 
the twelve, and peaches and cherries refuse to ripen. 

At Montreal, in latitude 43° 20', the temperature 
is much higher, and the cold of shorter duration, 
than east of the mountains, in Maine or Nova Scotia. 
Snow lies not on the ground so long, by two months, 
as at Quebec, though this town is lower down the 
river ; and this is likewise an exception to the law of 
elevation, and for this, therefore, some other cause 
must be sought. 

Before I investigate this cause, it will be necessary 
to mention some other facts and observations. 

From the comparative statements already made, it 
follows, that, in order to measure the temperature of 



127 

the United States, two tliermometrical scales must 
be applied to the whole country. One must be 
placed in the order of the latitudes, having its lowest 
point, or the extreme of cold, nearest the pole, at the 
river, for example, of St. Laurence, and its highest 
point, or extreme of heat, nearest the tropics, as in 
Florida. Between these points, the temperature 
varies, by regularly increasing or diminishing, in the 
same ratio with the latitude, the aspect and elevation 
being equal. 

The other scale must be placed transv^ersely, from 
east to west, in the order of the longitudes, and ought 
strictly to consist of a double scale, commencing from 
one common point or extreme of cold, to coincide 
with the highest ridge of the Allegheny, and pro- 
ceeding respectively east and west, till they terminate 
at their highest points or extremes of heat, one of 
them at the sea shore, and the other at the INIissis- 
sippi. In each, the temperature must be calculated 
from the elevation and aspect conjunctly with the dis- 
tance. From these principles alone can we deduce 
accurate ideas of the temperature and state of vegeta- 
tion in America. The sketch of a general table of 
the American climate, published by a society at New 
York, may be useful, but, in order to be accurate, 
we must adopt no other principles than those above- 
stated. 

Between the climates of the inland and maritimel 
districts there are two points of diversity, of great im- \t4' 
portance, though hitherto unnoticed. The first is, 



128 

that southward, beyond the latitude of 35° and 36**, 
the temperature of both regions becomes the same. 
The Floridas, and western Georgia, from the Missis- 
sippi to the Savannah rivers, enjoy the same climate 
and seasons. Hence it clearly appears, that the pre- 
vious difference was owing chiefly to the mountains, 
this diversity keeping pace with them, and ending 
only M'here they end. 

Secondly, the superior warmth of the western quar- 
ters ceases to take place when you reach the great 
lakes, and the latitude of 43° and 45° north. On 
leaving the southern shore of Lake Erie, the cold 
incessantly and prodigiously increases. At Detroit 
and Niagara the same climate prevails, but from 
Lake St. Clair the cold is much more severe and 
permanent than at Detroit. That lake is frozen over 
every year from November to February. South and 
south-west winds, which moderate the weather at 
Lake Erie, occur less frequently here, and no fruits 
but winter pears and apples reach maturity. 

At Machillimakinaw, 2|° further north, observa- 
tions made in 1797, under the direction of general 
Wilkinson*, show, that from August 4 to September 
4 the thermometer, in several places beyond Lake 
St. Clair, never was higher at noon than 70 degrees, 
and that, in the morning and evening, it often sunk 
to 46 degrees, which marks a colder atmosphere than 

I at Montreal, on the same parallel. 

v 

* See New York Medical Repository, vol. I. 



129 

These statements fully accord with those lately 
published by Mackenzie. While at Philadelphia, I 
made acquaintance with that respectable traveller, and 
procured from him much information on this subject. 
One of his companions, Mr. Shaw, I was likewise 
fortunate enough to meet with, in 1797, on his return 
from a residence of thirteen years at the remotest sta- 
tions. From the information of these two intelligent 
observers, I collected the following facts : 

That from Lake Superior westward to the Stony 
or Chippewan Mountains, and north as far as 72°, a 
climate every where prevails, whose rigours can only 
be compared with the climate of Siberia. The 
ground, generally flat, and either naked or producing 
a few stunted trees and shrubs, checkered with lakes, 
bogs, and innumerable rivers, is eternally whistled 
over by violent and icy gales, coming from the north 
and north-west. Above the latitude of 46°, the earth 
is frozen the whole year. At several stations, be- 
tween 50° and 56°, they can sink no wells. Mr. Shaw 
attempted to dig one at St. Augustine, forty miles 
from the mountains, but, though it was July, the 
earth was frozen three feet deep, and as it grew harder 
and harder, he was obliged to desist, after penetrating 
twenty feet. 

The testimony of these gentlemen is incontestable, 
but it receives new strength from the evidence of 
other travellers. Robson, who, in 1795, built Prince 
of Wales's Fort, at Hudson's Bay, in latitude 59°, 
relates, that, in attempting to sink a well, in Sep- 

R 



130 

teniber, he found the earth, to the depth of three feet, 
thawed by the previous warm weather ; then a stra- 
tum of eight inches, frozen as hard as a stone ; under 
this a loose sandy mass, dry and full of frost, where 
his borers could find no water, because, as he ima- 
gined, the intense cold, arresting the descending 
waters, prevented them from sinking below a point 
^vhere the heat of summer might have thawed them*. 

Umphraville, a factor of the Hudson's Bay com- 
pany, from 1771 to 1782, and a careful and judicious 
observer, likewise affirms, that the greatest heats of 
summer, which are very great for four or five weeks, 
do not thaw the earth to a depth of more than four 
feet, even where the wood has been removed, and 
the surface exposed to the full force of the solar rays ; 
but where the scanty shade of the pines and junipers 
protects it, it is not thawed above two feet deep. 

Hence it is evident, that, beyond a certain latitude, 
the eastern and western regions have the same tem- 
perature. This line, being about the latitude of 44° 
or 45°, and skirting along the lakes and Algonquin 
Mountains, limits the warm climate of the western 
country, to an extent of nine or ten degrees, a space 
bounded, on the other three sides, by mountains. 
This peculiarity is occasioned, in some manner or 
degree, by these bordering ridges, but what is the 
grand and primary cause ? This is the problem to 
be solved, the discovery to be effected ; and as vari- 

* An Account of Six Years Residence at Hudson's Bay. 



131 

ous observations have concurred in pointing out, as 
the principal agent in these events, an aerial current 
constantly prevailing in the valley of the Mississippi, 
and which is widely different from those winds that 
prevail along the sea coast, it will be here necessary 
to explain fully the laws by which the winds of the 
United States are governed. 



132 



CHAPTER VI. 



The Winds of the United Slates. 

IN Europe, especially in France and England, 
the inconstancy of the winds, and the consequent 
changes of weather, are frequent topics of complaint ; 
but, in this respect, we experience nothing compar- 
able to the fluctuation and caprice of winds and wea- 
ther in America. For near three years together, 
from October, 1795, to June, 1798, I never saw the 
wind at the same point for thirty hours at a time, or 
the mercury remain stationary for ten hours. The 
wind is in incessant change, not merely a few points, 
but from one point to its opposite ; from north-west 
to south and south-east, from south and south-east 
to north-west ; and these variations are of more im- 
portance, and attract attention the more, because 
the vicissitudes of temperature are equally sudden and 
great. In winter, on the same day, snow will fall in 
the morning, with an .east or north-east wind, and the 
mercury at 32 degrees ; at noon, the mercury will 



133 

rise to 45 or 48, with the wind at south or south-east ; 
in the evening it will be 28 or 30, m ith a north-west 
wind. 

In summer, a calm may be expected at two o'clock 
in the afternoon, the thermometer at 86 or 88 degrees. 
Rain succeeds, with a south-west wind, at four or 
five. The wind speedily veers to the north-west, 
strong and cold, and at midnight the thermometer 
sinks to 68 or 70. Autumn is the only season when 
a succession of a few fair days, and a steady gale 
from the west, may be expected. This mutability is 
the more remarkable, inasmuch as it extends through 
the whole maritime country, from the sea shore to 
the mountains, and from Halifax to Charleston, the 
same vicissitudes taking place nearly at the same 
time, through all this vast extent. Particular posi- 
tions of the surface, and of the sun above the horizon, 
have doubtless some effect on these aerial currents, 
and winds, local and partial in their prevalence, may 
sometimes be observed ; but it is strictly true, that 
the winds of the United States blow, in general, over 
an extensive surface, and the same blast is much 
more amply diffused than in Europe. 

This is more particularly true of the three princi- 
pal winds, the north-west, north-east, and south-west. 
These powers appear to have shared the dominion of 
the air among them. Dividing the year into thirty-six 
parts, we may affirm, that these three engross thirty 
or thirty-two of these parts, the north-west and south- 



134 

west having each twelve of them, while the east and 
north-east have six or eight. The rest of the year 
is distributed among the south-cast, south, and west : 
the north can hardly be admitted to any share. 

Each of these winds, having considerable influence 
on the weather, and being itself an effect of some- 
thing else, will be examined and explained in due 
order. 



I. OF THE WINDS BETWEEN NORTH AND EAST. 



No wind occurs so rarely in the United States as 
the north. From the tables I have seen at Boston, 
Philadelphia, and Monticello, it does not blow eight 
davs in the whole vear in these latitudes. It seems 
to be most frequent in the southern countries, from 
observations made at Williamsburg, and quoted by 
Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia. These sum- 
mary notices, however, appear to be extremely vague, 
and, if admited as true, we may conjecture that this 
wind at Williamsburg is local, and owing to the 
course of the adjacent stream, which flows south into 
James River. The course of a general w ind is often 
inflected, from 30 to 80 degrees, by the hollow of a 
river, a ridge of hills, a lake, forest, or the like. It 
is at least certain, that, both east and west of the 
Allegheny, a north Avind seldomer occurs than any 



135 

other*. When this wind blows, it is is generally 
moist and cloudy, and always cold. 

This circumstance seems, at first view, hostile to 
the general theory of winds, which refers all move- 
ments of the atmosphere to the action of the sun's 
rays, by which it is unequally dilated, and commotion 
occasioned in establishing an equilibrium between 
masses which are light or heavy in pioportion as 
they are warm or cold. Hence it is that the atmos- 
phere is continually shaken by streams moving in 
different directions, and that the cold dense air of the 
north, must, by the law of equilibrium, be constantly 
flowing southward, to fill up the room made for it by 
the dilatation and levity of the air near the tropics. 

Though the influence of these general laws is ob- 
structed or modified by local circumstances, we shall 
prove that the American winds are all reducible to 
this principle, and that the debt which the north 
owes the south is fully paid by its collaterals, the 
north-west and north-east, these winds being armed 
and supplied from the great arsenal of the north. 

NORTH-EAST WIND. 

This wind, like most others, changes its qualitities 
with its country. In Egypt, where it is named gri- 

* This assertion is confirmed by the tables of Dr. Ramsay, at 
Charleston, which give but four days to this wind in a series of 
four years, from 1791 to 1794. In 1792 it never once occurred, 
and it is no less rare at Quebec. 



136 

gidc'y I found it gloomy, chilly, and oppressive ; in 
the Mediterranean, it was rainy and tempestuous ; 
ill France, particularly north of the Cevennes, it is 
dry and parching ; and, lastly, in the United States, 
it is dreaded as the harbinger of wet and cold. We 
need only look at a map of the world to perceive the 
cause of this diversity. In Egypt, this current over- 
tops the snowy ridges of Taurus, which ranges north 
of Syria, and not having time to imbibe moisture or 
warmth in its short flight over the extremity of the 
Mediterranean, it passes, for the most part, unaltered 
over Egypt. 

As we go westward, this current comes to us from 
the Archipelago and Greece, where it imbibes some 
degree of warmth, and crossing the broadest part of 
the Mediterranean obliquely, it absorbs a great deal 
of humidity, and distils rain on the coast of Spain. 

In France, south of the Cevennes, by blowing over 
the Alps, it becomes dry and cold, but it rarely oc- 
curs, its place being usurped by a collateral wind, 
called, by the Provencals, the mistral. North of the 
Cevennes, it reaches us only after traversing the con- 
tinent, from Russia through Poland and Germany, 
and in this long course it parts with all its moisture, 
and gives us nothing but a settled cold. Jf we push 
this line a little north, we shall see it traversing the 
Wliite Sea, the Baltic Sea, and the Bothnian Gulph, 
from which, and from the bogs of Finland, it sucks 
up moisture in abundance, which it again pours along 
the coast of Sweden, and carries to Norway nothing 



137 

but its cold. This desiccation is likewise promoted 
by the ridge of Define mountains, which divides the 
two countries, and intercepts the clouds and \apours. 

In North America, this wind acquires humidity 
without heat by traversing a vast extent of \vater, 
which reaches to the pole. It bears this character 
throughout the maritime country. Its approach may 
always be discovered by the deliquescent state of your 
salt, soap, or sugar. The sky is soon overcast, and 
the scattered clouds, if previously there be any, 
quickly coalesce into a dark and universal canopy. 
If the air be cold, these clouds congeal into snow ; if 
hot, they dissolve into rain. 

From Cape Cod to Newfoundland, this wind fills 
the air with the chilliest and most benumbing fog I 
ever witnessed, and at Philadelphia, as at Cairo, I 
could tell when this wind blew, on waking in the 
morning, merely by the sensations it produced. In 
both places it oppresses the brain, and produces tor- 
por and head-ache*. 

If this state of the body, or one similar to it, be 
necessarily produced by a given state of the atmo- 

* It is the error of all observers to represent particular 
eiFects as general, and occasional appearances as constant. There 
are many natives, as well as visitors, at C:iiro and Philadelphia, 
who are totally strangers to the sensations here described, as con- 
nected with the north-east Avind. They experience nothing but 
the sensible consequences of wet, cold, and the absence of sun- 
shine, which are rather uncheering to the fancy than directly hurt- 
ful to the health — Traxs. 

S 



138 

sphere, must we not believe that the physical and moral 
constitution of man is greatly influenced by the state 
of the air ? And may not these causes explain the 
diversity we meet with in the character of nations, 
some being distinguished by lively wit and keen per- 
ception, and others by torpor and feebleness of mind*? 

The north-east wind possesses these qualities in a 
less degree as it goes southward ; but, even in Geor- 
gia, they are sufficiently perceptible, and the name of 
this wind is sure to suggest images of coldy wet, and 
disagreeable, from Halifax to Augustine. 

On crossing the Allegheny, this language and these 
associations are changed. There the emigrants from 
Massachusetts and Connecticut are surprised to find 
this wind rather dry than wet, rather light and plea- 
sant than heavy and irksome ; but the cause is evi- 
dent. As in Norway, this current is arrested and 
disburthened of its vapours, by the ridge of mountains 
which screens the western country on the north and 

* Baotium crasso jurares aere natum, said a philosopher and 
poet. — Y . It is somewhat surprising that notions, so crude 

and so generally exploded, should be countenanced by our author. 
The mental influence above-described operates through the me- 
dium of the body ; and though a native of a warm, serene climate 
may be discomposed and stupified by cold fogs and rains, they 
tend to harden the constitution of those exposed to ihem from 
birth, and the mind is not enfeebled or impaired by this cause, 
except through the body. This evil influence, therefore, is only 
to be dreaded by weak and effeminate forms, which a mild and 
serene climate is morejikely to produce than a bleak and churlish 
one. — Tkans. 



139 

east. Hence it seldom carries tlie wished-for rain, 
especially in summer, to Kentucky and the vale of 
the Ohio : and hence also it happens, that, when rain 
conies from this quarter, it continues at least a day, 
and sometimes three days, because a very consider- 
able chasm must be produced, above the valley of the 
Mississippi, to bring the vapours unbroken and entire 
over the mountains, and the sun must rise once or 
oftener, before the equilibrium is re-established, on 
both sides of the ridge. This occurs oftenest in 
winter, because then the atmosphere is every where 
more turbulent and mutable. The east and north- 
cast winds will then frequently cross the mountains, 
and clothe the western regions with snow, or deluge 
them with rain ; but they are soon driven from these 
precincts by their great adversary the south-west, 
which reigns here five-sixths of the year. When the 
contest proves obstinate, they both ascend vertically 
to the upper regions, and there turning back, they 
glide away horizontally, or sink again to the lower 
strata*. Sometimes the south-west overpowers its 
antagonist, and keeps onward to the ocean ; at other 
times the north-east wins a passage to the Mississippi 
and the Gulph of Mexico. 

These commotions are most violent at the equi- 
noxes, when the sun, by carrying its ardent influence 
from one pole towards the other, produces a great 

* Gliiserti horizontaleinent^ ou ,sc rcverscnt dans Ics couches injc- 
riures. 



140 

revolution in the atmosphere, and the equilibrium 
being suddenly destroyed bet\\een large masses and 
adverse currents of air, the uproar of the elements 
extends far and wide. At these periods, of course, 
and in April and October, occur those tornadoes, 
which, in the United States, most commonly owe 
their birth to the north-east wind. These whirlwinds 
move in narrow veins, about half a mile broad, and 
four or live miles in length. Within these lines, they 
twist off and lay level the largest trees, and their 
course through a forest is like that of a reaper through 
a field of wheat. Sometimes, though rarely, their 
progress is more ample, and they traverse the whole 
country, an incident which I shall explain when I 
come to consider the laws of the south-west wind. 

The prevalence of the north-east wind, in the mari- 
time country, is partly owing to the direction of the 
coast and of the inland mountains, which conforms 
to the course of the airy current. Observations made 
at Monticelio, Frederick stown, and Bethlehem, prove, 
that at times when the wind is north-east at Newport, 
New York, Philadelphia, and Norfolk, there prevails 
a different wind inland. The partial reign of this 
wind is sometimes manifested, by the snow it brings 
with it extending less than ten miles from the shore. 
There fell, at Norfolk, on the 14th February, 1798, at 
night, more than forty inches of snow, the wind at 
north-east ; whereas, twenty-five miles inland, it did 
not even rain, and the wind tended to north-west, as 
the newspapers of the day recorded. The change from 



141 

north-east is generally to east, which, though less 
frequent than the former, is, in like manner, abundant 
in rain and cold, especially north of 40°. Southward 
of this, it becomes lenient and milder, but it is still 
wet, which the temperature of the sea, from which it 
blows, and of these latitudes, sufficiently accounts for. 
This wind is not to be confounded with the tropi- 
cal or trade wind. This never extends further north 
than 32°, and only thus far when the summer sun 
rarifies the northern atmosphere, and thus forms a 
vacuity to be supplied by this stream. In winter 
it does not reach further tlian 22°, being repulsed at 
this time by the colds of North America, and at the 
same time drawn southward by the ascent or rarefac- 
|tion of the atmosphere in South America, on which, 
jat that season, the sun exerts his full force. At all 
times, and even when the fluctuating east and north- 
least prevail in the Atlantic Ocean, they are separated 
From the trade wind by an intermediate space of calm, 
or of counter streams, whence arises their unequal 
/emperature, their density, and velocity. There is 
;ilso another difference between them. Though ge- 
nerally capricious and irregular, the extra-tropical 
yorth-east and east prevail at the equinoxes, and for 
lorty or fifty days afterwards. Hence this season is 
most favourable to the voyage from Europe, and the 
opportunity is anxiously seized by the merchant 
ships. Before or after this period, the prevalence in 
winter of the north-west, and in summer of the south- 
west winds, occasions a long delay. These winds 



142 

allow but little time to the south and south-east 
winds, which I shall now proceed to explain. 



II. SOUTH-EAST AND SOUTH WINDS'. 

The south-east wind, in the United States, bears 
some resemblance to the sirocco of the Levant, which 
also blows from that quarter, being hot, moist, light, 
and rapid, and producing, though in a much less de- 
gree, the same torpor of the brain, and the same un- 
easy sensations. 

Since the kamsin, or south wind, in Egypt, and the 
south-west at Bagdat and Bussora, have the same 
properties, which they imbibe in consequence of 
sweeping over a burning surface of sstnd, foimtai?iIess 
and dry, we may naturally impute this influence to 
the operation of caloric, or some combination of that 
fluid, on our nerves. This inference is favoured by 
the actual quality of these winds, since the south-east 
wind in America is more supportable than the same 
wind in Sicily, because it loses some of the qualities 
which the sands of Africa imparted to it, in its passage 
over the Atlantic, and the sirocco of Naples is more 
lenient than the kamsin and harmattan, because the 
former is obliged to cross the Mediterranean, while the 
latter blow over an uninterrupted extent of dry land^. 

* Here again a native of x-Vmerica will be surprised to find him- 
self continually exposed to the horrible sirocco, kamsin, and ha!- 



143 

When the south-east blows in winter, in the mari- 
time country, which most frequently happens at the 
approach of the equinox, it is apt to occasion thaws, 
even in Canada, one injurious effect of which is to 
spoil the meat, of which, in cold countries, there is 
usually provided a store for five or six months. In 
the south, these unseasonable gales give a spring to 
vegetation, and caU forth, in January and February, 
those germs and blossoms, which the speedy return of 
frost is sure to destroy. 

Near the equinoxes, especially the vernal, this wind 
is apt to generate storms, more particularly near the 
coasts of Jersey and Maryland. These gales com- 
monly last about twelve hours, and they resemble a 
hurricane or tornado, in raging within a narrow space 
of forty or fifty miles in length, by a breadth of fifteen 

mattan, of Africa. A mucky breeze from the south will some- 
times discompose him in the sultry mornings of August, but it is 
rare that the south or south-east produces any remarkable effect, 
nor, though always warm, and sometimes wet, does it deserve to 
be in any respect compared to the poisonous breath of the African 
deserts. The south-east wind in North America does rtot, in fact, 
traverse any part of Africa, but comes over the whole south Atlan- 
tic, and over the bogs and woods of Brazil and Guiana. The 
south wind comes from the region of the Andes, and the Gulph of 
Mexico. The sandy Africa lies between east and east-north-east 
of the United States, which winds are moist and cold, as might be 
expected from their journey over so much water, notwithstCiUding 
the hot and dry point from which they may be supposed to set 
out. The parching and suffocating kamsin and siroc, therefore, 
or any degree of them, cannot be known in North America. — 
Trans. 



144 

or twenty. Two examples of this occurred within 
my own observation at New York, and one at Phila- 
delphia, where there raged so violent a storm for half 
a day, that all the ships near the coast were supposed 
to have been wrecked, whereas, twelve hours after, 
many vessels arrived in perfect safety, which had ex- 
perienced no extraordinary wind. 

This violent irruption of hot rarified air, cannot be 
explained by ordinary principles, since every other 
air is colder and denser than this. We must therefore 
suppose it produced by the dilatation of a large quan- 
tity of air, by means of heat, and which, of course, 
drives to a greater distance the colder air that is con- 
tiguous. The bays and mouths of rivers, where this 
stormy wind most frequently occurs, having a conical 
or funnel-like outline, favours this opinion : for a large 
body of air being forced into these inlets, is pressed 
into a channel that grows narrower and narrower. 
An appearance similar to this takes place in a pool 
of v/ater, which, if the banks be entire, remains in 
equilibrio and at rest ; but if a narrow outlet be made, 
the water crowds to the opening, where a deficiency 
is first occasioned, and its impetuosity depends, 
first, upon the degree of general pressure, and, next, 
upon the amplitude of the space, in which it dif- 
fuses itself after escaping through the outlet. This 
exterior space, with respect to the wind in question, 
is the middle region of the atmosphere, somewhat 
less, perhaps, than three thousand feet above the sur- 
face, and the south-east torrent pours into this region 



145 

by ascending, like all heated fluids. There it is 
either condensed by the freezing stratum above, or 
flows oft' horizontally beneath it ; or, perhaps, ac- 
quires a vortiginous direction around a horizontal 
axis, about fifteen hundred feet high, its circumfe- 
rence brushing the surface of the earth. As to the 
cause of this previous vacuity above it, unproduced 
by thunder, or any other obvious meteor, a great 
number of preceding and attending circumstances 
must be investigated in order to discover it ; but, as 
I possess not these necessary data of enquiry, I shall 
not attempt to supply their place by conjecture. 



OF THE SOUTH WIND. 

We should naturally suppose a wind directly from 
the south would be hotter than one from the south- 
east, yet, in this country, it is cooler. In summer, 
when it prevails most, they deem it a cooling and 
agreeable breeze, since it impregnates the air with 
moisture. This vapour, I observed, at Philadelphia 
and New York, accompanied with a strong smell of 
sea marshes, such as oysters have, and by these un- 
pleasant means it indicates its sources*. It tempers 

* The south wind at New York comes directly and wholly from 
the sea, and the dampness it breathes is saline to the taste : at 
Philadelphia it comes from the sea over the sandy tracts of Dela- 
ware and Maryland, and the senses of a native cannot perceive 
the odour here mentioned. — Trans. 

T 



146 

the heat produced by the direct and reflected rays 
of a burning sun, in June, July, and August. For 
the sake of this breeze, a southern aspect is generally 
preferred for a house in the United States, as in 
France we prefer, on a similar account, an east and 
south-east exposure. The course of the summer sun 
is so high above the horizon, that it does not enter 
apartments shaded by piazzas, which are generally in 
use throughout America*. In winter its course be- 
ing lower, the house is cheered by its oblique rays, 
in spite of the keen north-wester, which is then the 
usual accompaniment of sun- shine, but from which it 
is screened by a blank wallf. At this season, if the 
south wind be cold, it is made so by the snow which 
sometimes lies upon the ground in Carolina. If it bring 
snow instead of rain, this arises from the clouds, from 
the north and north-east, encountered on its course, 
and not having time to retreat back into the ocean, or 
towards the pole. Such snows immediately dissolve, 
or turn, while falling, into rain. Six hours blowing 
will derive from this wind the warmth and moisture 
which the tropical seas impart to it. At Philadelphia, 
March 10, 1798, it produced the temperature of Flo- 
rida. In summer, when it is brisker than usual, it 

* Piazzas in the country and in villages only. In the large 
towns, an awning protects shops and booths. — Trans. 

t The thermometer, at noon, on the north side of a wall, will 
sometimes sink to 20 degrees, while, on the south, it shall rise to 
35 ; on one side it shall freeze intensely, while, on the other, the 
clods shall be slippery and wet. — Trans. 



147 

ultimately produces a storm ; and it is remarked at 
Louisville, and other places on the Ohio, that thunder 
is sure to follow its continuance for twelve hours. If 
we rate its motion at forty-five or fifty miles an hour, 
twelve hours m ill enable it to bring to the Ohio the 
vapours of the Gulph of Mexico. The prevalence of 
this wind, in summer, proves a powerful attraction 
to the north, at this season, in North America ; but 
whelhcr this centre of attraction is within or beyond 
the Algonquin Hills, north of the great lakes, cannot 
be ascertained but by contemporary observations 
made on the line extending, from the coast of Flo- 
rida, through Kentucky, the Lakes Huron and Erie, 
and over the Algonquin Mountains, to Hudson's Bay. 
These would greatly elucidate the laws of re-action 
between the polar and tropical atmospheres, and be- 
tween the north-west and south-west currents, which 
are chief among American winds. 



III. THE SOUTH-WEST WIND. 

The south-west is one of the three most prevalent 
winds in the United States, is more frequent in 
summer than in winter, and in the western than the 
maritime regions. In winter, it is unable to sur- 
mount the Allegheny, from which it is probably re- 
pelled by the counter-blasts from the north-west, 
north-east, and east. Sometimes it overcomes these 
obstacles, and rushes more impetuously, as well 



148 

as with greater cold, than its customary moderation 
and its sources would allow us to expect. These 
extraordinary qualities it owes to the mountainous 
country, covered with snow, and the plains, deluged 
with wet, which it is obliged to traverse. 

In spring, it occurs more frequently, bringing tem- 
porary snows, torrents of rain, and even hail. These 
may be considered as belonging to the north-west, 
north-east, and east, whose cloudy freight, arrested 
by the Allegheny, it turns back and drives before it. 
This mountain is, indeed, the frontier on which these 
hostile winds contend. The observer, on the plain, 
may see the clouds tending towards the Blue Ridge, 
on the wings of the east or north-east wind. There 
they are checked, and either disappear in rain, or fly 
back before a south-west wind, which blows for a 
few hours. I witnessed this spectacle the evening I 
spent at Rock-fish Gap, on the Blue Ridge, and mine 
host, though no philosopher, explained very satisfac- 
torily the reasons of what he saw. 

At the summer solstice, the south-west prevails 
more steadfastly than any other, in the maritime coun- 
try. It is then the chief agent in the storms, which 
rage in July and August, with a violence unknown 
in France. A gale, which usually rises from the 
south, at ten or eleven o'clock, yields, at noon, to the 
south-west, which darkens the afternoon with thunder 
clouds. For a few hours, the most vivid lightning 
and the loudest thunder are accompanied with heavy 
rains, but at sun-set the roar is stilled, and the clouds 



149 

break and disperse, and an evening of enchanting cool- 
ness and serenity succeeds the hubbub and glooms of 
the tempest. 

At the autumnal equinox, the north-east takes its 
turn to reign, with some intermissions, for forty or 
fifty days. The south-west then revives, and shares 
the rest of autumn with the north-west, Aviiich now 
begins to be keen and brisk, and with the west, 
which is the most equable, serene, and bland of any in 
America. 

The south-west, in the vallies of the Mississippi 
and Ohio, as far as the St. Laurence, is more uni- 
form and simple in its progress. It prevails, we may 
venture to say, for ten months out of the twelve, 
from Florida to Montreal. For two months only, at 
the winter solstice, the north-west and north-east rule 
the air. Afterwards it revives and strengthens, as 
the sun approaches the zenith, till, in July and August, 
it is nearly as steadfast in the western regions, for 
forty or fifty days, as the trade wind is at the equator. 
It prevails nearly as much on the St. Laurence, and 
ships are obliged to w^ait a month for a wind to carry 
them up that river, and then the wished-for gale is 
brief and transitory. It is this wind that thaws the 
river, in April, as the north-west freezes it again, in 
December. The south-west, as well as the south, is 
the hot wind of Canada, Vermont, and Genessee, but 
it properly merits this name only in summer, for it 
cools as the sun recedes from the zenith, or the land 



150 

verges towards the pole, and is hottest near th( 
Gulph of Mexico, which is its focus. 

Being so near this focus, it raises the temperature 
of Lower Louisiana, in winter, so much, that tlit 
intermeddling winds from the north, north-west, and 
east, which are pretty frequent, cannot check thci 
growth of the sugar cane, especially the species | 
brought from Otaheite. This advantage is out-j 
balanced by the excessive heats of summer, which: 
bring with them almost daily storms, like those that 
sailors call white squalls. This stormy season begins 
after the solstice, and its progress is remarkable. At 
first, the humid and suffocating heat reaches its height 
about five in the afternoon ; tempestuous clouds then 
roll from the mouth of the river, and from the south- 
west parts of the Gulph of Mexico. These clouds 
rise some minutes earlier every day, so that, in the 
middle of August, thunder is heard about two o'clock 
in the afternoon. Heavy rain accompanies its tre- 
mendous peals. By sun-set all is still, and the sky 
is sometimes clear, and sometimes obscured by mists, 
which the sun sucks up from the neighbouring 
marshes. The night is calm and sultry, and infested 
with mosquitoes. Next day, the heat increases as 
the sun approaches the meridian, and is greater as the 
air is calmer, and in the afternoon the customary 
storm succeeds. The south-west wind drives these 
tempestuous clouds towards Kentucky and Tenessee, 
where they meet and mingle with others exhaled 



151 

from rivers, swamps, and lakes, and thus the gloomy- 
canopy is uninterruptedly stretched as far as Canada. 

Justly to estimate the laws of this great aerial cur- 
rent, and its influence on the surface of the earth 
which it sweeps, to determine the nature of the re- 
servoir which supplies it, which is the atmosphere 
of the Gulph of Mexico, many circumstances of 
these regions must be investigated and compared. 
The northern tropic passes over the middle of this 
gulph. During the six summer months, its whole 
surface is exposed to the rays of a vertical sun, by 
which an immense evaporation is produced. During 
I the six winter months, the solar influence is still 
; powerful enough to exclude frost from the precincts 
!of this sea. The shores of Yucatan, Campeachy, 
Vera Cruz, Florida, and Cuba, are all extremely hot. 
.This heat arises from the contiguous gulph beinp- 
'surrounded on all sides by high land, by which the 
air is rendered stagnant, and this gulph is more vexed 
by alternate storms and calms, thunder, water-spouts, 
"and whirlwinds, all of which necessarily attend a 
moist and fiery atmosphere, than any other water in 
the torrid zone. 

These circumstances will fully account for the 
:jualities which the south-east wind in North Ame- 
rica possesses ; but the enquirer will naturally ask, 
vhence is supplied this immense reservoir, from 
vhich such abundant streams are incessantlv flowins: ? 

If we carefully inspect the map (No. II.), we shall 
'.ee, that the two mouths or outlets of this gulph are 



152 

placed between the isle of Cuba and the peninsulas of 
Yucatan and Florida ; that by the opening on the side 
of Yucatan, which is the largest of the two, this re- 
servoir receives water and air, from the Atlantic 
Ocean, through the intermediate Gulph of Hondu- 
ras and the Caribbean Sea ; that through the other 
and narrower outlet, between Florida on one side, 
and Cuba and Bahama on the other, the contents of 
this reservoir are continually flowing back into the 
Atlantic, and that the access of air on this side is 
obstructed by a triple chain of islands. We shall see 
that both these channels lie between the latitudes of 
20° and 24° north, and that of Yucatan, supposing 
it to extend through the Caribbean Sea, falls as far 
down as 10°. Now, since the eastern trade or tropi- 
cal wind blows throughout the year on the Atlantic ; 
since this wind springs up about three hundred miles 
from the coast of Africa, and moves 24 miles an 
hour, and, after a progress of six hundred miles, 
reaches the Caribbean islands, we shall naturally per- 
ceive that this immense airy flood must easily sur- 
mount this insular barrier, and that, on entering the 
interior sea, it is hemmed in and compressed be- 
tween St. Domingo and Jamaica on the north, and 
Tierra Firme on the south, and thus driven into the 
Bay of Honduras, and ultimately makes its way into 
the Mexican Gulph : thus it supplies the waste of 
air occasioned by the south-west wind. 

It is this steady current from the east, which pro- 
duces most of the phenomena observable in the gulph. 



153 

Its first recess is violent, because the entrance be- 
comes more and more narrow. The insular moun- 
tains break and divide this current, as a stream of 
water is broken and divided by the piers of a bridge, 
and these obstacles, as in water, produce eddies. By 
being divided and compressed in the channels between 
these islands, its force is augmented, and on issuing 
from them, it expands again with violence, and each 
current forming eddies in its rear, they contend with 
each other for the vacuity. These conclusions are 
strengthened by observing, as we coast these islands, 
the various courses which the wind assumes, as the 
distance from them varies^ 

These motions are parallel to what take place in a 
stream of water, allowance being made for the greater 
levity of air ; and careful observation of the eddies 
which occur under a bridge, or among the obstruct- 
ing rocks of a torrent, will afford accurate notions of 
what happens in the present case, and in all airy cur- 
rents. 

Some may suppose that the trade wind would 
naturally keep on its course westward, notwithstand- 
ing the interposition of the grand isthmus of Mexico ; 
but air, thoueji so much lighter than water, is sub- 
ject nearly to the same laws, and does not easily' 
tranc^ress the limits of its customary channels. It 
is clear that the mountains of Honduras and Nicara- 
gua, which are elongations of the Andes, form an 
insuperable barrier to this wind. To judge of this 
with accuracy, we must know the height of these 

¥ 



154 

ridges, and the thickness of the stratum of moving 
air. This stratum may possibly be thinner than we 
should at first imagine, for aerial voyagers assure us, 
that the strata of the atmosphere do not often exceed 
600 feet in thickness, and that contiguous masses 
often move in opposite directions, so that two or three 
different winds may be found to blow in an ascent of 
three or four thousand feet. New observations on 
this head would be highly serviceable, and would 
particularly throw useful light on the subject before 
us. 

As to the Mosquitoe or Nicaragua Hills, let us 
suppose their height to be, in general, only 1800 feet. 
This mound would obstruct and repel the trade wind, 
to a degree that would leave it all its volume and 
force. What would escape over the top, would be 
a useless superfluity, but we cannot suppose that any 
of it thus escapes, since no trace of it is found, be- 
yond this ridge, on the coasts of the Pacific Ocean. 
There, the customary winds are widely different, be- 
ing the local breezes to and from the sea. These 
penetrate several miles inland, and extend 100 miles 
to sea, at which distance ships may expect to light 
upon the general winds. The latter commonly blow, 
especially in summer, from the west, and are there- 
fore directly adverse to Atlantic gales. They prevail 
from latitude 10° to 2V, quite along the Mexican 
coast, from Cape Bianco to Cape Coruntas. 

Neither does the trade wind turn aside and cross 
Panama, since there the summer gales blow south 



155 

and south-south-west, from the Pacific Ocean. — 
Hence it is evident, that the Andes of Mexico are its 
insuperable boundary, and whatever be its height, is 
the border line between two sets of winds. 

Thus obstructed, the trade wind must find a vent. 
That between Jamaica and the Mosquitoe shore pre- 
sents itself of course, and through this it rushes into 
the bay of Honduras. The mass, however, is not 
perfectly entire, for sidelong and detached currents 
skim the adjacent lands. Mariners relate, that from 
Cape Vela, one projecting point of the gulph of Ma- 
racaybo, the ^\ inds vary, and swerve into a course 
parallel^ to the grand stream, shutting up the bays of 
Santa Miuiha, Carthagena, Darien, and Porto Bello. 
Some are influenced by the mountains and rivers on 
this shore, and blow from south-east to north-west. 
Some blow west, and are real counter-currents, such 
as we meet with in the course of all rapid streams of 
water, and such as so much aid the navigation of the 
Mississippi. On the right of the grand stream, ano- 
ther detached portion forms a south wind, which, 
from June to August, fans the coast of Cuba and Ja- 
maica, an^ thus again, we see the whole force and 
natural direction of the stream only iii the middle of it. 

On entering the bay of Honduras, it veers a little 
to the south-east, and encountering no new obstacles, 
it enters the Gulph of Mexico. The bank of sand 
called Yucatan is interposed between tl^e two bays, 

* Does not Volney mean oblique, or perpendicular ? — Trans, 



156 

but its level is too low and uniform to constitute anj 
obstacle. Accordingly, Bernard de Orta, who has 
published* some useful information on the winds of 
La Vera Cruz, tells us, that the south-east prevails 
in all these parts. 

If, then, we imagine a volume of air, three hundred 
miles in breadth, by fifteen hundred feet in depth, 
that moves at least half a mile a minute, and is 
accumulated in the great basin formed by the Gulph 
of Mexico, it is evident that, from the curvature 
of the edge of this basin, and from the diminution 
of the propelling poAver, this stream, considered 
as one and entire, must acquire a rotary or vorti- 
genous motion, whose axis or centre, though not 
permanent, is chiefly found in the northern part of 
this gulph, whence it parts with its superfluity to 
the adjacent lands, and hence a principal cause of all 
appearances near this spot, and in the south-west part 
of the continent, Avhose winds and meteors are influ- 
enced from this quarter. 

Pursuing the course of the grand stream, we shall 
quickly see it divide itself into num^erous branches, 
all which obey the primary impulse, in connection 
with, and modified by, certain local and partial causes. 

The first of these branches crosses Yucatan, coasts 
along La Vera Cruz and Panuco, and, impelled by 
the original force, and by the Tiascalan Mountains, 



* In the Supplement to the Mexican Gazette, for October, 

1795. 



157 

penetrates the inland of Mexico, and along the chan- 
nels (or vallies) of Panuco, Las Nacas, Del Norte, 
or Bravo, with those of all their branches, assails at 
length the mountains of New Biscay, New Mexico, 
and Santa Fe. Without any actual observation I may 
safely affirm, that in all these regions the prevailing 
winds are from south to east. 

No doubt it is this current which, having reached 
the mountains of New Mexico, assumes new quali- 
ties, and pours down upon the north-west coast, so 
skilfully examined by Vancouver, and blows, in sum- 
mer, as far as Nootka. 

Captain Mears, who made many useful observa- 
tions there, in 1791, represents the south-east wind, 
in that quarter, as violent, tempestuous, wet, and 
piercing cold. These qualities, so rare in the south- 
east wind in the northern hemisphere, it acquires in 
its passage over the cold summits of the mountains 
of New Mexico, which are so deeply clothed with 
snow and ice, as to obtain the name of icy and shin- 
ing*. These hills are not unworthy of' comparison 
with their parent stock, the Andes. The south-east 
wind of Nootka owes its strength to their altitude, 
for Mears likewise tells us, that the reigning wind, 
in the ocean absurdly called Pacific^ blows, in sum- 

* How happens it that this moving stratum is able to surmount 
these hills ? Its primary impulse must be lessened ; it must have 
parted with much of its heat, and consequently grown denser, 
and of less thickness ; hence must be less able to surmount this 
ridge than that of Nicargua. — Trans. 



158 

mcr, from the west, as far as the latitude of 30o, 
*' where begins the zone of eastern trade wind." It 
thus appears, that the parallel of 30° forms the boun- 
dary line between two winds exactly opposite. This 
western gale, mild and serene, is the counter-current 
of the eastern trade, which, being brisk and rapid, 
produces, by its friction with the adverse stream, 
those calms, squalls, and whirlwinds, so fatal to the 
early circumnavigators. 

A second branch of the trade wind, within the 
former, and taking off the larger portion of the whole 
remaining volume, blows towards the shores of Loui- 
siana and Florida. Its general direction is south- 
west, but, on the Mississippi, it is rather south, the 
navigators of that river observing that they experi- 
ence, strictly speaking, only two wi-ids, the south and 
north, which arises from the constant conformity be- 
tween the course of the rivers and that of the conti- 
guous currents of air. It may also be naturally ex- 
pected, that it should have a tendency directly south 
sometimes before it becomes steadily south-west, and 
that this tendency should particularly prevail in the 
neighbourhood of Bernard's Bay. 

A third branch endeavours to cross the peninsula 
of Florida to the ocean beyond ; but the eastern trade 
wind reigning in the Atlantic, during summer, as 
high up as latitude 30° or 32°, meets and checks its); 
career, and finally turns it back towards the gulph. 
This returning wind, mingling with the one last men- 
tioned, tends, among other causes, to add unusual 



159 

force to the south-west wind of the United States, in 
July and August. 

The middle portion of this great stream, kept in 
equilibrium by opposite impulses, gives rise to the 
variable winds, calms, squalls, and tornadoes, which 
infest the Gulph of Mexico. 

These inferences are all confirmed by the experi- 
ence of navigators. Don Bernard de Orta, comman- 
dant in the port of La Vera Cruz, assures us*, that 
the south-east and east are, in summer, the predomi- 
nant winds, in the south part of the gulph. In win- 
ter, they veer to north-east, and bring along with 
them transient but violent squalls. Bernard Romans, 
an English traveller, who published, in 1775y,a very 
intelligent and useful book on the Floridasf, tells us, 
that the north-west and west are prevailing winds at 
the curved shore, where the continent shoots out into 
the peninsula, and such is exactly the course of the 
airy current in returning to its fountain in the gulph. 

Lastly, these writers, as well as every navigator, 
assert the frequency of water-spouts, whirlwinds, 
hurricanes, squalls, and calms, in these seas. 

Some philosophers have already noticed the agree- 
ment, as to time, between the hurricanes of the Gulph 
of Mexico and tempests even far north upon the con- 
tinent. Dr. Franklin compared the hour at which a 
north-east storm, that traversed the country from Bos- 

* See his Dissertation on tlie Winds, See. 
t Natural and Civil History of the two Floridas : New York, 
»ow very scarce. 



160 

ton to Florida, in October, 1757, was felt at different 
places, and found that the airy motion began at Bos- 
ton several hours after its commencement near the 
Gulph of Mexico, and that it began later and later, 
as the distance- from the gulph augmented. This 
circumstance, which ordinary enquirers considered 
as fortuitous, the inquisitive mind of that philosopher 
perceived could only be accounted for by placing the 
commcucing point of this motion in the gulph, and 
by su Imposing it occasioned by the northern air rush- 
ing in to fill a vacuum produced there by the rarefying 
heat of the sun, in the same manner as water in a 
trough is set in motion by opening it at one end ; 
that which is nearest the opening beginning to move 
first, and this motion gradually extending to the fur- 
ther end. 

This simple explanation has been confirmed by 
subsequent observation and experience. Every year, 
between the 10th and 20th of October, a storm of 
twelve or fifteen hours duration usually occurs in the 
north part of the United States, particularly on Lake 
Erie ; and always, at the same time, news are brought 
us of a hurricane on the coasts of Florida and Loui- 
siana, imth northerly %mnds^. 

* This coincidence merely proves the extent of the storm, and 
not the priority of its occurrence near the gulph. Few or no 
observers have investigated this fact with the minute accuracy of 
Dr. Franklin, or ascertained, like him, the commencing point or 
velocity of the gale. — Trans. 



161 

The suction exerted at the gulph is evident ; but 
how is this vacuum produced, and why does the air, 
with which it is replenished, flow from the north-east? 
for this is the quarter whence the inland storms, whe- 
ther universal or partial, generally arise. By care- 
fully examining the history of winds, and arranging 
all the facts \\ hich I have been able to collect on this 
subject, I think I have qualified myself for solving 
this mysterious problem. 

Stormy clouds have not yet been subjected to the 
analizing processes of chemistry, nor their mode of 
acting on each other, their violent detonations, the 
rapid solutions that take place in consequence of these, 
the sudden and mighty condensations by which a vast 
bulk of vapour is converted into a small quantity of 
water and cold air, been as yet demonstratively ex- 
plained ; but many important facts, and their conse- 
quences, are not unknown, and some satisfactory con- 
clusions may be built upon them. 

It is known that all clouds have moist surfaces ; 
that they are produced by the evaporation of water, 
and by the volatile principles it contains ; that eva- 
poration is proportioned to the previous heat, dr}"- 
ness, and renewal of the air ; and consequently clouds 
are generated by the combination of water v/ith calo- 
ric, the igneous, or the electrical fluid, which, in my 
opinion, are merely different names of the same thing, 
either in a simple or compound state. This fluid, 
essentially volant and centrifugal, fastens itself to par- 
ticles of water, which is, comparatively, a gross and 

x 



162 

heavy substance, and forms of them little balloons or 
floating vesicles, filled, sustained, and animated by 
different portions of this fiery essence. Hence we 
may consider clouds as a kind of volatile neutral salt, 
combining air, water, and caloric, all which principles 
become sensible to us at the instant of their reduc- 
tion or detonation ; the water in the form of rain ; the 
fire in the lightning that gleams and the thunder that 
roars ; and the air in its influence on the touch, on the 
nerves, and on the respiring organs. All clouds, 
however, are not fraught with thunder, nor tempes- 
tuous. To make them such, a larger portion of calo- 
ric appears necessary, clouds being capable of absorb- 
ing or imbibing different quantities of that ffuid. 
Caloric seems to enter more sparingly into the com- 
position of clouds above the sea, because there the 
aqueous vapour abounds, and the temperature is low, 
and hence they are less tempestuous and detonant. 
Seamen observe, that storms are rarer as we go fur- 
ther from land, and are more violent, as well as fre- 
quent, as we approach it. Hence we may infer, that 
a principal cause of storms is great heat or abundance 
of caloric, and this abundance is greatly owing to 
reflection from the earth's surface. Many substances, 
rare or unknown at sea, contribute to this effect, as 
volatile mineral substances, sulphur, and the gasses 
which exhale from animal and vegetable bodies, in 
the state of putrefaction or maceration. These gasses 
abound in wet and marshy places, whose matters are 
much more susceptible of heat than mere water, and 



163 

such places particularly abound in the regions under 
our consideration, for all the Delta of the Mississippi is 
half immerged in water, partly fresh and partly brack- 
ish. All the \\est bank of the river, fifty miles wide, 
and four hundred long, is buried under an annual 
deluge. Five hundred miles of the shore of the gulph, 
from Mobile Bay quite as far as Rio del Norde, con- 
sists entirely of marshes. The shores of Yucatan, 
Cuba, Campeachy, and Florida, is an endless swamp. 
We may easily conceive what immense exhalations 
must arise from a surface of this kind amounting to 
many hundred square miles. 

It is clear, likewise, that when clouds differently 
charged approach each other, and come into contact, 
a commotion ensues, for the purpose of equilibrating 
the electric fluid and every other gas, in each. In 
this effort, the electric fluid exerts more energy and 
more velocity than the air and water, and, from its 
extreme tenuity, all its parts unite at once, and their 
separation from every other fluid is instantaneous. 
In consequence of this separation, the water, now 
free, operates with its natural gravity. Hence the 
rain, more or less copious, that follows lightning, 
which is a ray from the electric fluid in its simple 
state, and the thunder, produced by the concussion 
of the air rushing into the vacuity occasioned by the 
sudden condensation of the aqueous vapour into 
water. 

When we recollect that water converted into steam 
occupies eighteen hundred times more space than it 



164 

did as water, and that even at a less degree of heat 
than boiling it expands to a thousand times its former 
bulk : of consequence, that a cloud of a thousand cu- 
bic fathoms may be suddenly reduced to one, or at the 
most to ten ; and that the air rushes into the vacuum 
hereby produced, at the rate of 1380 feet in a second, 
that is, with the velocity of a cannon-ball, we shall no 
longer wonder at the force of those winds, which, un- 
der the name Of squalls, water-spouts, and tornadoes, 
uproot trees, overwhelm houses, and wrench from 
their places twenty-four pounders with their carriages, 
many instances of which are known in the West In- 
dies. In fine, the sudden formation of vacuums in 
the atmosphere are the general cause of all the mo- 
tions to which the air is subject. 

These vacuums readily explain the cause of the 
north-east and north-west winds of the United States, 
and the tempests which sometimes attend them ; for 
if the same mass of air diffuse itself between Lake 
Erie and the Allegheny on one side, and the Andes 
of Mexico and Darien on the other, it is plain, that 
if a considerable condensation is effected by a thun- 
der storm, in the air over the Mexican Gulph, a va- 
cuum takes place, into which the air of the Missis- 
sippi valley must rush with violence, whose motion 
will of course propagate itself further north, the air 
behind moving continually forward to supply the 
place of the air before. This motion usually takes a 
north-east course, because the south-west wind is 
that which is deficient and withdrav.s itself, so that 



165 

the north-east may be considered as the return of the 
south-west. 

It is proper to consider the space above-described 
as filled with one entire mass of air, as a kind of 
aerial ocean or lake, bounded by the western, south- 
western, and northern mountains, and the West In- 
dian isles. The A'jegheny, while it bounds this 
viewless lake on one side, is likewise the shore of a 
similar expanse of air, that of the maritime country, 
on the other. Now the latter being contiguous to 
the northern and north-eastern atmosphere, whose re- 
servoirs supply its currents, is relatively cold and 
dense, while that of the western waters is warmer and 
lighter, consequently the former continually exerts a 
pressure on the skirts of the latter, and tends to 
overflow on that side. As soon, therefore, as the 
counter-pressure of the western atmosphere ceases, 
by its being set in motion south-west, the maritime 
air overflows and spreads itself in the jame south- 
westerly direction. 

The almost regular recurrence of a north-east storm 
in Autumn must, however, have a cause equally per- 
manent, and this, I think, may be traced in the great 
revolution which takes place in the whole atmosphere, 
when the sun passes the equator. While the sun 
continues north of this line, and in the neighbour- 
hood of the tropic, its radiance must occasion un- 
usual heat in tlie northern continent, and thus create 
a focus of suction, towards which all the prevailing 
winds must tend. Thus the atmosphere of the torrid 



166 

zone is pushed to the verge of the polar circle, ai 
there checks and circumscribes the fury of the nor 
thern blasts ; whereas, when the sun has re-passed 
the line, it becomes, in twenty or thirty days, that 
is, about the middle of October, vertical to the broad- 
est part of South America. Tlie reflection of its hot- 
test rays, from so vast a surface of land, creates here a 
new focus of vacuity, to which the circumambient air 
must flow in immense volumes, and all the winds, to | 
a great distance, must acquire a new tendency in this 
direction. The northern airs are then permitted to 
diffuse themselves as far as the tropic, the trade wind 
is confined to the norrower limits of 18" 20° or of 
latitude, and hence arise those periodical north-east 
winds that flow from the ocean into Guiana, from De- 
cember to March or April, when the sun is over Para- 
guay. Thes€ winds, after discharging the superflu- 
ous humidity on Guiana, pursue their course to the 
Andes. EJpnce also those northern winds, which, 
after October, prevail in the Mexican Gulph, and 
extend as far as the Andes of Darien. 

The sun's passage to the south of the equator is a 
moment of revolutions and commotions, which reach 
from one polar circle to the other. At the instant of 
one of these changes, the air of the gulph, suddenly 
impelled toward the south, leaves behind it a vast 
vacuity, into which the air of the Mississippi regions 
pours itself, and since the period of twelve hours, 
during which the autumnal storms rage in the United 
States, is nearl}^ proportioned to the space requiring 



167 

to be traversed and replenished, the cause here as- 
signed to them seems liable to no objection. To the 
existence of vacuums formed by detonation can alone 
be ascribed those mysterious hail storms, during 
which we see descending from the atmosphere masses 
of ice weighing several pounds*. The electric ex- 
plosion having suddenly disengaged the caloric con- 
tained in an immense mass of vapours, which are in- 
stantly condensed into falling water, the icy air above 
rushes into the vacuum, compressing the drops toge- 
ther, and freezing them, and whirls them aloft into 

* I had long entertained doubts as to these enormous hail-stones, 
safd to weigh many ounces, and even pounds ; but the storm of 
13th July, 1788, convinced me of the truth of such reports. I 
chanced, on that day, to be at Pont Chartrain, ten miles from 
Versailles, and walking out,' at six o'clock in the morning, I found 
the sun intolerably hot, and the air calm and suffocating, in other 
words, extremely rarefied. The sky was without cloud, yet I 
heard four or five peals of thunder. A quarter after seven, a 
cloud rose in the south-west, which presently obscured the whole 
horizon, and hastened swiftly to the zenith, with an encreasing 
wind. A storm of hail suddenly assumed, the stones falling ob- 
liquely, at an angle of about 45 degrees, so large, that they might 
have passed for fragments of mortar from a wall that was pulling 
down. I could scarcely credit my oAvn eyes. Many of the pieces 
were larger than my fist, and many of them were plainly frag- 
ments of still larger masses. As soon as I could safely venture, 
I picked up one of them, which weighed more than five ounces- 
Its shape was very irregular. It had three horns or projections, 
as big and nearly as long as my thumb. I was credibly informed, 
that a hail-stone at St. Germain weighed more than three pounds \ 
after which, nothing of this kind can surpass belief. 



168 

the upper region, with the same force with which it 
tears up trees, or beats down houses. All hail storms 
are therefore accompanied with wind, whose violence I 
is generally proportioned to the size of the hail. 

In the same manner may water- spouts be expl^n- 
ed, which are vortigenous masses of air and water, 
seen only in cloudy weather, and commonly attended 
by thunder and a calm. These move over the sea, 
and sometimes over land, shaped like an inverted 
cone, whose base is a cloud, and whose point below 
pours out a torrent, sometimes sufficient to sink a 
ship. 

These were once attributed to submarine volca- 
noes, spouting out those watery columns as whales 
do. Such cases may possibly exist, but then the co- 
lumn would be stationary, and very bulky : but the 
common water-spout moves along with great speed, 
apparently vagrant and capricious in its course, and 
must therefore be differently accounted for. We 
may suppose, that in a turbulent atmosphere, whose 
detonations are limited and partial, vacuums take 
place in the middle regions of the air, more slowly, 
and to a smaller extent, than in regular storms ; into 
these, however, the clouds are diawn, and are sud- 
denly condensed into rain by a contiguous mass of 
cold air, which acts like a cold effusion in the steam 
engine. Whether this rain is upheld by the density 
or heat of the lower air, or by the whirling motion of 
the vortex itself, its different threads are joined to- 
gether in the shape of a funnel, whose top is the dis- 



169 

solving cloud, and whose point touches the sea, 
where the water takes a natural descent. 

The conical figure of the mass is produced by the 
same cause, though acting in an opposite direction, 
as the similar shape of the flame, observed in the 
great fires kindled in the American woods by the 
clearers of land. They collect into one heap, in the 
middle of the field, the trees they have felled, that 
they may burn the easier, and with less danger to the 
trees which remain. They set fire to this immense 
pile, which sometimes covers an acre, and, when 
fully kindled, we observe the flames bending inward 
to the common centre of the pile, from which they 
aspire in the form of a cone, the point of which pos- 
sesses the same spiral motion as that of the water- 
spout. In both cases there is a confluence of air from 
all parts of the circumference to the centre, where in 
one case it rises, and in the other descends, with a 
spiral motion to a point ; the fluid in the first case 
being relatively light, and in the other heavy, and ac- 
quiring this kind of motion by the pressure or oppo- 
sition of the air, which they pierce or bore. 

A water-spout may possibly be occasioned by the 
friction of two opposite streams of air, that being suf- 
ficient to produce a gyratory motion. If one were 
colder than the other, the cloud would condense, and 
all the usual appearances would follow. 

.1 have now, I think, clearly .proved that the south- 
west wind of, the United States is the tropical or trade 1 j 
wind with an altered course, and tliat of consequence ) 

Y 



170 

tlie air of the western country is imported from the 
West Indies through the Gulph of Mexico, and thus 
is it distinctly seen why the temperature of the wes- 
tern regions is higlier, by three degrees of latitude, 
V-^than that of the maritime country, though only parted 
by a ridge of mountains, and why the superior acti- 
vity of a warm air, when free from mounds and im- 
pediments," promises to all these tracts a very great 
improvement of their climate, by the removal of the 
forests. This improvement will be more speedy and 
considerable in the country near the lakes, and even 
in the vale of the St. Laurence, than in places farther 
south, eastward of the mountains. This effect begins 
already to appear, since that river is now shut by the 
ice nearly a month later than when Canada was first 
visited by Europeans, and marine insurances, which 
at the beginning of this century Contained a condition 
to sail by the end of November, now require ships to 
leave the river merely before the 25th of December. 
Some drawbacks on this hope will indeed be found, 
in the history of the north-west wind ; but before I 
enter on the history of this wind, I shall take this op- 
portunity of speaking of a phenomenon, which has 
an intimate connection with the facts first detailed, 
but which has received less attention from geogra- 
phers than it deserves : I mean the great current in 
the Gulf of Mexico, called the gulf stream. 



171 



IV. OF THE GFLPH STREAM. 

The influence of the tropical wind is not confined 
to the air only. Blowing over a space of three thou- 
sand miles, this wind heaps up water in the Gulph of 
Mexico. To what height this kind of inundation 
raises the expanse of the gulph above its natural 
level, we are furnished with no means of judging. 
The Spanish government has sometimes thought of 
connecting the two seas by a canal, at X)arien, but it 
has not caused the respective levels to be ascertained. 
I can, however, assert that the level of this gulph is 
several feet higher than that of the Gulph of Hondu- 
ras and the Caribbean sea, and still higher than that 
of the South Sea. I deduce this fact from its ana- 
logy to the state of the Mediterranean, and of lakes 
of a certain extent, where a steady wjnd of a few days 
creates a rise or flood of two or three feet, at that end 
to which it blows. This is very perceptible in the 
harbour of Marseilles,- where I have seen the water 
raised thirty inches by easterly winds, whereas a 
westerly wind produces opposite effects. The French 
engineers have found a variation of thirty-three inches 
on the coasts of Syria and Egypt, 

The rise, in the present instance, must be much 
greater, as the wind is so much more powerful and 
steadfast, and operates upon a greater mass of v/ater. 
As the Red Sea has been found to be near thirty feet 
higher at Suez than the Mediterranean at Damietta, 



172 

it is natural to infer a similar disparity between the 
South Sea coast and that of the United States. It is 
obvious, however, that Avhatever be this height, the 
fluid must somewhere subside to the same level ; but 
this cannot be by the reflux of the waters of the 
gulph through the channel of Yucatan and Cuba, be- 
cause this is adverse to the current of air and water 
which forms this very redundance. It must then re- 
lieve itself by issuing through the channel of the Ba- 
hama islands. After coasting the shores of Mexico, 
Louisiana, and Florida, it turns the southern point of 
the peninsula, under shelter of Cuba, and the sand 
banks of Bahama, which ward off" the refluence of the 
ocean on the east, and repel the trade wind. 

The celerity of the gulph stream is a proof univer- 
sally known of the height of the fountain, in the 
Gulph of Mexico. After passing through this chan- 
nel into the ocean, its identity is still preserved, by a 
course of four or five miles an hour, and likewise by 
its colour' and temperature, which is from 10 to 22 
degrees hotter than the contiguous water. This re- 
markable stream coasts the whole of the United 
States, varying in its breadth, which, at a medium, 
is forty-five or fifty miles. Its force is not destroyed, 
nor its peculiar properties lost, till it reaches New- 
foundland, where it diff'uses itself suddenly, in the 
direction of north-east. 

The gulph stream first attracted the attention of sir 
Francis Drake, at the end of the sixteenth century, 
who conjectured its true cause ; but its most remark- 



173 

able property, the warmth of its temperature, es- 
caped his notice. This was not observed till 1776, 
when Dr. Blagden, experimenting on the temperature 
of the ocean at different depths, was struck by this 
peculiarity. He found the thermometer, in the 
latitude of 31° north, off Cape Fear, when plunged 
into the sea, stand at 72 degrees. Presently it rose 
to 78, and continued so many leagues, when it sud- 
denly sunk again to 69 and 67. Here they ap- 
proached the coast, the water became green, and 
they got soundings. 

This discovery attracted much attention in Eng- 
land, which was much augmented by the observations 
of Dr. Franklin, the next year, on his passage to 
Europe. Mr. Jonathan Williams, his companion on 
that voyage, pursued this subject still further, and 
after repeated experiments, laid the foundation for tlie 
following conclusions : " 

1. The gulf stream pursues a settled and distinct 
course from Florida to Newfoundland. •• 

2. It conforms to the direction of the American 
coast, at a distance varying with the state of the wind, 
but geilerally of 23 leagues. 

3. As it advances, its force lessens, and its breadth 
encreases. 

4. It has hollowed out a very deep channel in the 
bed of the ocean, for in it you can reach no bottom 
with a very long line. 

5. It wears away the south-eastern shore of the 
United States, though opposed by the rocks of Hat- 



174 

teras, which turn it a point and a half towards the 
east, and which it will, at some future time, over- 
whelm and destroy. The sandy isles of Bahama, the 
banks along the American coast, and the shoals of 
Nantucket, appear to be merely heaped up by this 
current. I am, indeed, tempted to affirm, that the 
banks of Newfoundland merely constitute a bar at 
the mouth of this vast shoreless river. 

6. On each side, it forms eddies or counter-cur- 
rents, which, aided by the depositions of the rivers, 
forms the muddy stratum or deposit, termed sound- 
ings. 

7. A south-west wdnd, of long duration, makes its 
limits and course less distinct, by driving the ocean 
billows in the same direction ; but the north-east 
wind, being directly adverse to it, makes it more 
conspicuous, by causing such a heavy sea, as mari- 
ners call it, as greatly to endanger vessels of single 
decks and deep waisted. 

8. When the colour of the water changes from the 
sky blue of the ocean, or the olive green of soimditigs, 
into a deep indigo green, you are in the gulf stream. 
Examined in a glass, it is colourless as that of the 
sea between the tropics, and is more saline than the 
rest of the Atlantic. 

9. A great plenty of floating weeds denotes your 
near approach to this current. 

10. The incumbent air is warmer than in the 
neighbourhood. The ice, which may chance to 
cleave to a vessel entering, it immediately melts. 



175 

You find yourself drowsy, and the space between 
decks becomes unpleasantly hot. Some facts will 
give distinct ideas of this high temperature. 

In December, 1789, Mr. Jonathan Williams, sail- 
ing from the Chesapeake, noted that, in the water of 
the sea, the mercury stood, 

1. In soundings, - - 47 deg. 

2. Approaching the stream, 60 

3. In the stream, • - 70 

4. In the stream, near Newfoundland, 66 

5. At Newfoundland, out of the stream, 54 

6. Beyond the bank, in the open sea, 60 

7. Approaching the English coast, 48 
Captain Billing, on a voyage to Portugal, June, 

found, near the American coast, and within sound- 
ings, - - 61 deg. 
In the gulf stream, - 77 

Now there appears here a difference of 15 degrees. 
According to Mr. Williams, who examined it in 
winter, the difference is equal to 10 degrees, so that 
the difference, as might be expected, is less in sum- 
mer than in winter. 

These observations have led to another important 
discovery. After numerous trials, ' it is found that 
the temperature of the water varies with the depth, 
being colder as it is shallower. 

In July, 1791, captain Billing likewise observed, 
that three days before he came in sight of Portugal, 
the mercury sunk, in a few hours, from 65 to 60 de- 
grees, and this variation coincided exactly with the 



176 

line where the ocean became fathomable. Mr. Wil- 
liams likewise observed, during another voyage, in 
November, that, on approaching the English coast, 
the mercury fell from 53 to 48 degrees ; and both 
these gentlemen remarked, that the sudden sinking 
of the mercury indicates a shoal beneath*. This 
effect arises from the bottom of the sea being colder 
than the water above it, or becatise evaporation, 
which alwaj's cools, has a more perceptible influence 
in shallow than in deep waterf. 

From the phenomena, just detailed, of the gulf 
stream, some light will be reflected on two facts in 
the natural history of the American coast. First, if 
we admit what I have asserted, that this current is 
one cause of the alluvial soil bordering its channel, 
its still or retarded waters depositing the matters sus- 



* The learned traveller, Humboldt, to whom -we owe many 
new and important observations, also found, that, in shoal water, 
his glass sunk 6-| degrees. Lalande, who deemed this observa- 
tion perfectly new, was doubtless unacquainted with the facts above 
related. 

t We may here suggest the possibility, by maturing and ex- 
tending this discovery, of finding out a scale for measuring the 
depth of the sea, similar to that applied to the height of moun- 
tains, the thermometer, in one case, being the instrument, as the 
barometer is in the other. We may also suggest to the enquirer, 
whether the great depth of the gulf stream has not some effect 
upon the thermometer, as well as the warmth of the water. By 
the observations of Williams and Billing, it should seem that the 
defith has an influence on the tempfei^ature, not only of the air 
above, but of the water itself. — Trans. 



177 

pended in it, we shall no longer be surprised at the 
occurrence of tropical productions, in a fossil state, 
in the northern regions. By this, or some such cur- 
rent may have been brought these masses of petrified 
shell-fish, found in digging wells and pits on the 
coast of Ireland*, and which have no resemblance to 
any but the shell-fish of the tropics. It cannot be 
denied that the gulph stream prolongs itself beyond 
the banks of Newfoundland. 

Secondly, Viewing the spread of this current near 
Newfoundland as the mouth of a great river, we see 
the reason why cod-fish so much abound there, and 
why they are attached to these waters ; for the stream 
carries with it, as it coasts along the United States, 
all those animal and vegetable matters Avhich float 
down the rivers and inlets, and these carried onward 
till the current loses its force, it is natural that these 
fish should resort to the spot where their favourite 
food is most apt to accumulate. 

Thirdly, The gulph stream will supply us with an 
explanation of the incessant fogs, for which these lati- 
tudes are noted; for as a large mass of tropical water 
is continually brought northward by thi^ current, 
which is nine degrees warmer than the neighbouring 
sea, in the first place, a more plentiful evaporation 
must follow, and, secondly, the vapours thus exhaled 
must be condensed into mists by the native atmo- 
sphere above and around ; this atmosphere being sub- 

* Philosophical Transactions, vol. X, XIX. 
Z 



178 

jcctcd to the chilling influence of the north-west and 
north-east winds. 

I shall now return from this digression, though it 
scarcely deserves that name, since the airy and aque- 
ous currents are inseparably connected together, and 
since the gulph stream is a collateral effect of these 
causes which modify so much the atmosphere of the 
United States*. 

* While this sheet was in the printer's hand, I received from 
America the fifth vokime of the Transactions of the Philosophical 
Society, of Philadelphia, which contains, p. 90, a paper by Mr. 
Strickland, in which he recounts a series of observations, made in 
1794, on a voyage to and from Europe, that fully confirm all I have 
advanced above, on the indications of depth to be drawn from the 
thermometer. This observer adds, that he noticed a branch of 
the gulf stream, in the parallel of Jaquet Island, latitude 47^ north, 
longitude S9° west, and he dwells on the probability of the pro- 
ducts of the tropics, having been conveyed by this current to the 
coasts of Ireland. He has given new force to my conjecture, that 
the bank of Newfoundland is the bar of this river, whose current, 
before these smds were collected together, pursued a straight 
course to Ireland, but after the obstacle was formed by the gra- 
dual accessions of many ages, was compelled to turn off to the 
east. The gravel of this bank might be compared, with some ad- 
vantage, to that of the Atlantic coast. 



179 



CHAPTER VII. 



Of the M nil -we at IVind. 



THE north-west wind is almost the chief wind 
in the United States. It differs, in two respects, 
from the south-west, inasmuch as it is cold, dry, and 
even stormy. It is more frequent in winter, of which 
it may be deemed the harbinger, than in summer, 
and is more rife eastward of the Allegheny than west 
of it. It can be compared to nothing so properly as 
to the mistral of Provence, which blows, in like man- 
ner, from the north-west, though it has an origin 
much less remote than the American wind. Tlie 
mistral, a stranger north of the Alps, and the moun- 
tains of Auvergne, and the Vivarais, has its source 
within the limits of our temperate ocean, in the upper 
regipns of ihc hills that border the vallies of the 
Rhone and Durance, where it prevails with most fury, 
and its chief source appears to be the summits of the 
Alps, which cool the neighbouring air, and occasion 
it to rush down upon the southern vallies, and parti- 



180 

CLilarly that of the .Rhone, where its career being 
checked by the hills of the Vivarais, it traverses all 
Provence in a north-west direction. The descent of 
this stream is the more violent and rapid, since the 
force of its natural gravity, and the pressure of the 
atmosphere above it is augmented, by the void which 
it finds over the Mediterranean, and which is formed 
by the burning coasts and plains of Africa. Hence 
it is always observed first at sea, and afterwards suc- 
cessively in the districts situated inland. Currents 
from the tops of the Vivarais hills may possibly niix 
themselves with the stream from the Alps, but the 
latter is the chief of these torrents, for the principal 
reservoir is doubtless placed among the loftiest Alps. 
Without this supposition, the mistral, in some of its 
appearances, could not be explained. Its flight, after 
every rain, is as sudden as the report of cannon, espe- 
cially in hot weather. 

The American north-west is likewise, in some de- 
gree, sudden and abrupt. In many cases, as will 
liereafter be shown, it comes from the upper regions 
of the atmosphere, but commonly, particularly when 
of long duration, it comes from the polar seas, and 
the icy deserts, north of Lake Superior. 

The cold brought by this wind was form»erly ima- 
gined to proceed from the five great lakes. This 
opinion has been since exploded, in consequence of 
more accurate knowledge of the country beyond these 
waters. It was, indeed, long ago remarked, that, in 
Vermont and New York, the cold was no less intense 



181 

than in the countries leeward of the lakes ; and the 
Canadian traders, who extend their excursions far 
beyond these w aters, have removed all doubt from 
this subject. These pilgrims affirm, that the farther 
they penetrate into what they term the great north, 
the stronger and more icy are the north-west gales, 
and that it is the chief plague of this naked and 
swampy Siberia, and of the country traversed in 
ascending the Missouri to the western mountains. 
The source of this wind must therefore be sought 
among the deserts, which, betwee4i latitudes 48° and 
50", are frozen nine or ten months in the year; in 
the Frozen or Arctic Ocean, which commences at the 
parallel of 72° ; and in the northern ridges and 
slopes of the Chippewan Mountains, which are always 
buried in sno^v. Beyond these mountains, on Van- 
couver's coast, the north-west has more moisture and 
less cold, because they receive it directly from Beer- 
ing's Bay and the ocean : but this is a variable wind, 
and belongs to another system. The north wind, 
according to captain Mears, is the reigning wind in 
this quarter. 

The degree of cold which icy surfaces impart to 
the air has been noticed by the missionary Charle- 
voix, who relates, that while crossing the bank of 
Newfoundland, in warm weather, the ship was sud- 
denly assailed by such a freezing wind, that the peo- 
ple were obliged to shelter themselves below. Soon 
after, they perceived an island of ice, such as are 
annuallv iicated from the noi'di into the Atlantic. 



182 

While to leeward of this island, which was near a 
mile loivr, the cold was extreme. Those who navi- 
gate these seas frequently encounter these temporary 
and freezing blasts. 

On the Atlantic cqast, this wind, after traversing 
the continent, comes sometimes freighted with rain, 
snow, and even haiL But these more properly be- 
long to the north-east . and south-west, which are 
checked in their course, and driven back, encumbered 
with all their vapours, on their own footsteps. This 
moisture it sometimes imbibes from the lakes, rivers, 
and marshes which it is obliged to pass over. Hence, 
in the places leeward to the lakes, and the general 
course of the Mississippi and Ohio, this wind is dis-. 
tinguished as wet in winter and tempestuous in sum- 
mer. Elsewhere, on the contrary, for instance, 
along the coast from Charleston to Halifax, it is noted 
not only for being keen and violent, but likev.'ise dry, 
wholesome, elastic, and invigorating. In some res- 
pects, it is a treacherous gale ; for, when invited abroad 
by the bright sun and clear sky, you find yourself as- 
sailed by a most cutting blast, which makes the face 
sore, and fills the eyes with tears, while sudden and 
fitful encreases of the whistling blasts make your 
footing insecure upon the slippery ice. Less bois- 
terous in summer, it is wished for, because its influ- 
ence tempers the scorching rays ; and, indeed, this 
wish is usually gratified after heavy storms of rain 
ajid thunder. On such occasions, it can only come 
from the higher regions of the atmosphere, which, in 



183 

these regions, are about ten or twelve thousand feet 
above the surface, because a half hour would scarcely 
be sufficient to bring it from the distant north. In 
tKese cases, a vacuum being produced below by the 
condensation of tlie vapours, the upper stratum must 
sink down to fill its plaice, and its peculiar direction 
is owing to the lightness and warmth of the south- 
western air, which therefore must yield to the pres- 
sure of this denser and colder mass. It is prevented 
from taking a southern course, by the reflux of the 
south-west and of the trade wind, whose counter- 
current occupies these middle latitudes. 

From the combination of all these currents springs 
up, from latitude 35° to 48° and 50°, north, that 
^yestern breeze, so constantly prevailing on the coasts 
of England, France, and Spain. 

Williams, in his history of Vermont, confirms this 
representation, by remarking that their north-west 
and west breezes always begin on the sea-side ; that 
is, if several ships lie on a line, that w^hich is furthest 
at sea feels the wind first, and so successively to that 
one which is nearest the shore. Mariners observe 
the same progress in the winds near the shore. The 
day wind, called the sea breeze, beginning far in- 
land, at the tops of hills, which, at noon, become a 
I sort of chimney to the neighbouring air. There the 
I wind is felt "twenty or thirty minutes earlier than on 
ithe shore, in proportion to their mutual distance, as 
I often noticed in Syria and Corsica, and the night 
wind, or land breeze, commences at the same points, 



184 

because refrigeration commences there, and Its own 
weight carries the mountain air to the sea, just as the 
same principle carries along a stream of \vatcr. The 
true causes of these difterent motions in the air de- 
serve to be examined, because they form the distin- 
guishing marks and properties of different winds : 
but all these motions are ultimately reducible to 
changes in the density, and relative vacuities pro- 
duced, among contiguous masses of air, by the ab- 
sence or presence of the sun's rays alternately on the 
land and the sea. This order is a kind of systole 
and diastole, occasioned by the air alternately ascend- 
jftg when heated and dilated, and descending when 
cooled and condensed. 

Dr. Belknap bears witness, in his history of New 
Hampshire, to these descents of the upper air. He 
describes a place in that state, where the wind seems 
always to fall from above, like the water of a mill- 
dam, and a remarkable instance of the same kind 
occurs in France, on the hills of Forez, which sepa- 
rate the vallies of the Rhone and Loire. In several 
places among these hills, particularly between Belle- 
ville and Rouane, sixteen or seventeen miles beyond 
Tarare, we always find, that while mounting the 
steeps, on the side of the Rhone, no wind is to be 
felt, but when you reach the summit, and still more 
when descending towards the Loire, a strong breeze 
is perceived from the east, that is, from the Rhone to 
the Loire, which wholly disappears when you retread 
your steps, from the mountain top to the Rhone. 



185 

This appearance is easily explained, by considering 
the valley of the Rhone as a lake of cold dense air, 
connected with the atmosphere of the Alps, while 
that of the Loire is a similar lake of warm light air, 
filled from the atmosphere of the ocean by the wes- 
tern winds. The ridge of Forez is a mound divid- 
ing these lakes, which, below this mound, are both 
tranquil, but, above this level, the surplus air of the 
Rhone overflows like water, and is colder and more 
rapid, inasmuch as it is the discharge, from the mid- 
dle region, of air from the Alps, and descending as 
it sweeps the surface of the airy lake below it. 

This is the proper place for removing a difficulty 
that arises from maintaining the greater frequency of 
the north-west wind east of the Allegheny than west 
of it, since it can hardly be imagined to pass over 
the former region without previously traversing the 
latter, which lies in the- way. 

This fact, which cannot be disputed, must be ex- 
plained in the same manner as the winds of France, 
just mentioned. The Allegheny is the shore of an 
airy lake, which, below the level of the top of this 
bank, is at rest, unaffected by the movements of the 
stratum above it. Hence the south-west M^ind traverses 
the valley of the Mississippi and Ohio, Kentucky, and 
the contiguous countries, as far as the valley of the 
St. Laurence, by which it flows ofi', while the north- 
west stream glides over it diagonally, and, overtop- 
ping the highest Allegheny, pours down on the mari- 
time country, where its force is augmented by its 

2 A 



186 

own specific gravity, the slope of the earth's surface, 
and the vacuity above the ocean in the south-east. 

The same movements occur in Lower Canada, and 
over the St. Laurence. Here the reigning wind is 
the south-west, and, next to it, the north-east. Very 
often the north-west is unknown at Quebec, while it 
blows in Maine and Nova Scotia, and this could only 
take place by its gliding over the concave bed of the 
St. Laurence, leaving undisturbed the air in this bed. 
When we observe a brisk current produced in a 
room, by opening two opposite doors or windov/s, 
which does not put out or even agitate a candle 
placed in a corner of the same room, or even ever so 
little out of the direct line between these openings, 
we are led to conclude, that air is not sucha very tremu- 
lous and fluctuating fluid as we might at first imagine. 

Another property of the American north-west re- 
mains to be mentioned. The mortar and plaster of 
walls exposed to it, are harder and more tenacious 
than those which have a dift'erent exposure, which is 
no doubt owing to its dryness. The north-western 
side of forest trees have a thicker and firmer bark 
than the other sides, and this is one among the marks 
by which Indians direct their journies through a 
woody wilderness. By such simple and natural ap- 
pearances as this, carefully noted, are they enabled to 
display that sagacity for which they are so famous ; 
and when visionary theorists or fire-side travellers la- 
vish their encomiums on the instinctive adroitness 
and discernment of savages, and thence infer the 



187 

marvellous superiority of the man of nature to the 
civilised man, they only show us their ignorance of 
the art of the hunter, and the improvements of sight 
and smell which a life spent in hunting is sure to 
produce in every individual who pursues it. The 
fancied superiority of the red men has been exploded 
ever since the settlement of emigrants from Europe 
along the frontiers, who become, in a few years, more 
strenuous and indefatigable warriors, and more skil- 
ful and sagacious foresters, than the aborigines them- 
selves. I shall, in future, discuss this subject in 
a manner which will show this race to be far more 
entitled to pity and horror, than to envy or applause. 



18i 



CHAPTER VIII. 



The United States compared with Europe^ in relation to Wifuh; 
Evaporatio7i^ Quantity of Rain., and Electricity. 

FROM what has been said, some notions may 
be formed of the climate of the United States. Since 
the predominant winds flow ahnost directly from the 
torrid and frigid zones, it follows that the climate 
must be distinguished by great heats and colds, by 
variable and capricious weather. Since one of the 
prevailing winds, the south-west, comes from a warm 
sea, another, the north-east, from a cold one, and the 
third, the north-west, from frozen deserts and lakes, 
the reason is plain why these winds are respectively 
warm or cold, clear or obscure, wet or dry. Some 
exceptions, it is no less clear, must flow from the 
local circumstances of the country. A dry wind 
must become rainy, when its course lies across a 
watery surface, as occurs in Genessee, where rain is 
brought by a north-west wind from the Lakes Huron 



189 

and Ontario, and by a south-west wind from Lake 
Erie ; while the north-east and east, so rainy on the 
coast, are there dry. At the sources of the Wabash 
and the two Miamis, every wind brings rain. At 
Gallipolis, on the Ohio, it rains most with a west and 
south-west ; while lower down, at Cincinnati, the 
west wind is dry, and the north-west is rainy. 

A rainy wind must become dry, after depositing 
its waters on the sides and tops of mountains ; and 
sometimes, in great airy commotions, all the currents 
appear to mingle, and their distinctive properties are 
for a time lost or confounded. 

Since the mountains of this country are of the 
lower order, and do not offer any considerable ob- 
stacles to the course of the winds, the winds must, of 
consequence, be general, and sweep the whole sur- 
face of the territory. The sea and land breezes arc 
the only exceptions to this rule. They prevail in the 
six summer months, and conform to the direction of 
the coast and of the rivers, and are influenced by the 
distance, declivity, and aspect of the ridges of moun- 
tains. For instance, from Florida to Jersey, the gale 
inclines to the south-east, and accordingly we see the 
land slope and the coast turn to that quarter ; whereas 
from New York to Cape Cod, the gale is due south ; 
and from thence to Nova Scotia its course is east 
and north-east, being still governed by the same cir- 
cumstances. It is stronger or weaker, earlier or later, 
according to the degree of heat, the slope of the land, 
and the distance of the heights, which form the sue- 



190 

tion. In Massachusetts, the breeze commences at 
half after eight or nine o'clock in the morning, in 
June ; in Carolina, it sets in at ten or eleven : the 
cause of this difference is perceivable on comparing 
the distance of the respective mountains from the 
coast. 

From this view arise two very important facts in 
physical geography : 

First, The temperature or climate of a country 
depends on its customary currents of air, or winds. 

Secondly, The condition of the surface has a power- 
ful influence on the course of these winds, and thus 
becomes a primary cause of the climate. 

In Europe, the application of the same principles 
produce an opposite effect. In the western parts of 
Europe, the chief rainy winds are westerly, because 
they come from the Atlantic Ocean ; and these are 
colder in England, and hotter in France and Spain, 
on account of the latitudes from which they proceed. 

In the United States, these winds are dry, because 
they traverse the broadest part of the continent. In 
France they are prevalent beyond others, because the 
eastern barrier of the Alps operates as a continual 
cooler and condenser, and in America they are rare, 
from the want of such a focus. 

In Europe, there are few general winds. They 
are divided into numerous systems, independent of 
each other, because the lofty Alps and Pyrenees form, 
in some sense, great lakes of air, separated from 
each other ; and because a great number of secondary 



191 

ridges, like those of Spain, the Cevennes, Vosges, 
Ardennes, Appenine,Corpathian,Dofrine,and Gram- 
pian hills, in different parts of Europe, almost all of 
which are higher than the Allegheny, and which form 
subdivisions equally distinct. 

In France, we have as many systems of wind as 
there are principal rivers, each river with its branches 
being considered as the ribs of a separate valley, such 
as those of the Rhone, the Garonne, the Loire, and 
the Seine. The Ardennes occasion a distinct and 
peculiar system to prevail in Flanders. The English 
channel supplies that province with a stream of moist 
cool air, which though at first west, becomes after- 
v.^ards south-west, and contributes so eminently to 
the fertility of that country. 

If western Europe be more temperate than the 
eastern part, it may be caused, as Pallas conjectures, 
by the protection it receives from the Scottish and 
Norwegian mountains, but it is doubtless chiefly 
owing to the temperature of the sea, whence come its 
prevalent winds, which are the west and south-west. 

Hence it is that the coast of Norway is widely dif- 
ferent in its climate from that of Sweden, and that 
, the temperature of Bergen has as little resemblance 
to that of Stockholm, as London has to Petersburg. 
The east of Europe owes its cold, dry, and salutary 
'airs to the east and north-east winds, which issue 
from the deserts of Siberia; and if Russia possessed 
a. mountainous screen on the east, or Siberia been 
protected by a wall of hills from the icy breath of the 



192 

polar ocean, these countries, and even Poland, would 
have enjoyed a temperature as mild as Denmark and 
Saxony. 

The atmospheric differences between Europe and 
North America are chiefly or solely owing to their 
topographical differences. We may thus explain why 
the annual quantity of rain is greater in America than 
in France, England or Germany ; why the falls of 
rain are generally more abrupt and sudden, and the 
subsequent evaporation more copious and rapid ; why 
the reigning winds are more violent, and tempests 
more frequent, in x\merica than in Europe. Each of 
these facts I shall proceed to illustrate more particu- 
larly. 



I. OF THE qUANTITY OF PvAIN IN THE UNITED 
STATES. 

Numerous observations have been made by intelli- 
gent Americans, in various parts of the country, on 
this subject, by which it clearly appears, that the an- 
nual and mean quantity of rain in the United States 
greatly exceeds that of most countries in Europe, 
except certain mountainous regions, or the heads of 
gulphs. The following table will prove this differ- 
ence. No part of the western country is included in 
it, because I know of no observations that have been 
made there. 



193 

rnches. 
At Charleston, according to Ramsay, in 1795 711 
The medium between 1750 and 17^0, accord- 
ing to Mr. Chalmers - 41| 
At Williamsburg', according to Jefferson 47 
At Cambridge, Massachusetts, according to 

Williams - - 47| 

At Andover, Massachusetts . - 51 

At Salem - - -35 

At Rutland, Vermont - 41 

At Philadelphia, according to Rush ^ 30 ' 

In Europe, the known quantities are these : 
At Petersburg - - 12| 

At Upsal . - - - 15 

At Abo - . - 25| 

At London - - 22| 

At Paris - - - 211 

At Utrecht - - 28| 

At Marseilles - - 2 If 

At Rome - - 30| 

At Naples - - - 371 

At Algiers - - 29} 

At Padua - - - 35i 

At Bologna - - 25| 

At Vienna . . _ 441 

Hence it appears, that, in general, one-third less 
rain falls in Europe than in North America : yet 
Mr. Holyoke, in a memoir already quoted, enume- 
rates twenty cities of Europe, where at a mean, for 
twenty years, there had been annually 122 days of 

2 B 



194 

rain, Avhile, at Cambridge, there had been only 88, 
and at Salem 95. Hence the inference is plain, that 
rain must fall in much heavier showers at the latter 
towns than at the former ones, and all the facts ob- 
served corroborate this inference. 



II. OF EVAPORATION AND THE DRYNESS OF 
THE AIR. 

Observations, no less accurate and numerous than 
those above-stated, may be brought to testify, that 
evaporation is more rapid in the United States than 
in Europe, and, of consequence, that the atmosphere 
is generally dryer and more turbulent. This posi- 
tion was long ago published by Dr. Franklin, and 
and destroys the airy speculations of De Pauw*^ 

* De Pauw's work concerning the Americans is a strange book. 
Returning from America, I was anxious to read it, for the sake 
of the important information it was said to afford : but when I 
saw the dogmatic confidence with which he embraced false facts^, 
how rashly he deduces from them chimerical consequences, with 
what earnestness he maintains the most silly paradoxes, and how 
acrimoniously he treats other writers, the book fell from my hand» 
I cannot imagine how any one can sit down gravely in his closet, 
and decide positively upon facts, of v.'hich he has no direct know- 
ledge, and of which the evidence on all sides is vague and insuf- 
ficient. My own experience has taught me, that nothing is more 
rare and difficult than to observe complex objects in the just point 
of view, and in their real connections ; that it is quite impossible 
to judge truly of a country or a people, without residing in it > 



195 

The doctor describes a mahogany box, with draw- 
ers, made with the greatest nicety, by the celebrated 
artist, Nairne. The drawers, which fitted exactly, 
and were even tight, at London, became too loose at 
Philadelphia : but when sent back to London, they 
became as tight as ever. Hence he justly infers, that 
the air at Philadelphia is dryer than that of London : 
but this single case \vas not an adequate foundation 
for a general rule. But this inference has been further 
illustrated and confirmed by Mr. J. Williams*. He 
found, by a series of enquiries and experiments, that 
the mean annual quantity of evaporation, at Cam- 
bridge, Massachusetts, during seven years, was 56 
inches, while in seven German and Italian cities, on 
a mean of twenty years, it was only 49, which makes 
a difference of 7 inches. Yet Italy is in latitudes 
much more favourable to evaporation than Massachu- 
setts, which borders the Atlantic Ocean. At Salem, 
in one year, there was 173 fair days, at twenty cities 
of Europe 64. At these cities, the cloudy days were, 
in 1785, 113, at Cambridge 69, at Salem, at a mean 
of seven years, 90. Water in vessels renewed once 
a month evaporated 4.10 inches, when renewed once 
a week 6.35; a difference no doubt owing to the 
wind, in the former case, not reaching the bottom of 

that this is more truly the case with respect to past times ; and 
that the great obstacle to knowledge is that positive and dogma- 
tic spirit, which is so generally inculcated by the popular modes 
of education. 

* See Transactions of the American Philosophical Society. 



196 

the vessel. On a river, a vessel evaporated 1.15 
inches, in a dry place 1.50. Four plants, weighing 
118 grains, placed in a box of sand, and well watered, 
evaporated 10944 grains, more than ten square inches 
of surface would have given in the same time. 

Thus it is evident that, in general, more rain falls 
in the United States, in fewer days, than in Europe ; 
that there are more fair days, and more evaporation. 
The cause of this diversity is easily seen, in the dif- 
ference between the two continents, in their topo- 
graphical circumstances. 

The superior quantity of rain in the United States 
arises from all its winds, except the north-west, and 
especially the most prevalent ones, coming from some 
sea, and having thence imbibed a great deal of mois- 
ture. That the rains are heavier and more sudden, 
is the consequence of the great diiference in the tem- 
perature of different winds, which is very favourable 
to solution ; and the rapid mixture of these hot and 
cold streams occasions heavy and plentiful rains. 
Our gentle showers are so rare in North America, that, 
when they do occur, the people call them English 
rains and English weather. They are sometimes apt 
to fall after the equinox, when people, going abroad 
without umbrellas, are unexpectedly wet to the skin^. 

* Light showers, svich as I suppose are here meant, frequently 
occvir in May and June, but are far from producing the impres- 
sions here described. On the contrary, the Americans are apt 
to exclaim English iveather only during the drizzling rains and 
incessant fogs, sometimes occurring in November and Febri^iry, 



197 

These mixtures of winds, and the consequent varia- 
bleness of the atmosphere, are occasioned b}^ the flat- 
ness of the country, in consequence of v. hich the 
winds find no considerable obstacle in their course, 
and thus the topography of the country exercises no 
small influence on its atmosphere, with respect to the 
abundance of rain. 

In Europe, on the contrary, high mountains inter- 
rupt and break the streams of air ; the atmosphere is 
more equable and stationary ; hot and cold winds in- 
termix less frequently : consequently solution is not 
so rapid ; the rains are gentle ; the air continues 
loaded for a longer time with vapours, clouds, and 
fogs ; and evaporation is more tardy. 

Evaporation is accelerated in the United States by 
the freedom of the winds from the constraints of an 
uneven surface, and the extensive prevalence of the 
dry north-west, which occupies two-fifths of the 
year. , 

In Europe the west, whose character is moist, pre- 
vails above other winds. 

This copious evaporation will account for the heavy 
dews in Nordi America. So heavy are these in sum- 
mer, that I often, on waking in the western forests, 
supposed it to be raining, till I looked above at the se- 

and which have been known to obscure the sun for seven, ten, or 
even fifteen days together. A vernal shower, preceded and fol- 
lowed by a bright serene sky, is as opposite as possible to the 
ideas prevalent in An)erica, be they true or false, respectin;^^ 
English weather. — Trans.. 



198 

rene sky, when I saw that the large drops falling from 
the leaves were only dew, that is, the water, evapor- 
ated in the day, and deposited again at night. 

Lastly, the American winds are more rapid, and 
storms more frequent, because the tropic is nearer, 
and the currents of air range more freely. If the 
Apalachian ridges were five or six thousand feet high, 
the atmosphere of all the western vallies would bo 
differently modified. 



III. ELECTRICITY OF THE AIR. 

The last circumstance of difference between the 
atmosphere of Europe and America is the quan- 
tity of the electric fluid, with which the latter is much 
more highly charged. This difference may be made 
perceptible to the senses at any time, without any 
complicated apparatus, merely by dravving a silk 
riband swiftly over a piece of woolen cloth, when the 
silk contracts more quickly than ever I saw it do in 
France. It is likevvdse evident in the superior vivid- 
ness of the lightning, and loudness of the thunder. 
When I first saw thunder storms at Philadelphia, the 
electric fluid appeared to me so copious, that all the 
air was on fire. Its arrowy and zigzag lines were 
broader and longer than any I had ever before seen, 
and so strong were the pulsations of this fluid, that 
they seemed to my car and my face like the wind 
produced by the wings of some passing bird. Its 



199 

effects, however, are by no means limited to the sight 
and hearing, for they often occasion the most disas- 
trous accidents. In the summer of 1797, from the 
month of June to the 28th of August, the newspapers 
reported seventeen persons killed by lightning ; and 
Mr. Benjamin F. Bache informed me he had counted 
eighty severe accidents of this kind. They are fre- 
quent in the country, especially beneath trees, and 
few people appear to be acquainted with the use, 
as a preservative at the same time from the rain and 
lightning, of oiled silk or cloth*. 

The abundance of this fluid is an additional proof 
of the dryness of the air, as its scarcity in Europe is 
an indication of the moisture of our atmosphere. Ca- 
loric is absorbed and neutralized by w^ater in the state 
of vapour, when it no longer displays its native or 
usual properties ; for the igneous or electric fluid 
abounds most, and its presence is most evident, in 
the driest and coldest atmosphere, because, in such 
an atmosphere, it has no aqueous vapour to combine 
with. Hence it is, among^ other reasons, that vege- 
tation, when it once takes place, is more rapid and 
active in the United States than in France. It can- 
not be said that the abundance of this fluid is owing 

* From the use of conductors, or from some other cause, acci- 
dents from lightning are rare in the American cities. One death, 
from this cause, in twenty years, in New York or Philadelphia, 
would be a liberal calculation. The terror of lightning, which 
prevails greatly, especially among the female sex, is a genuine 
and formidable evil in America. — Trans. 



200 

to the proximity of the sun, because it is always most 
copious when the north-west wind is the most keen, 
and, according to the learned travellers in the Russian 
empire, it is excessively abundant in the driest and 
bleakest regions of Siberia. 

It is worth remarking, that fogs and damps are pro- 
lific causes of disease ; that they particularly excite 
coughs, catarrhs, rheumatisms, and, in general, ob- 
structions in the vascular system ; that they produce 
fevers of various kinds, but all attended with shiver- 
ing, succeeded by heat. Now if moisture, in the 
form of mist or vapour, has a tendency to attract and 
absorb the igneous or electric fluid, robbing of it 
those bodies that previously possessed it ; if this fluid 
be one of the vital principles of the human constitu- 
tion, one of the causes of the circulation of the blood 
and other fluids, and perhaps the radical principle of 
the nervous fluid ; may we not infer that aqueous va- 
pours are injurious to us, by abstracting from the 
frame the due portion of this vital heat ? By depriv- 
ing of this animating fluid the cellular membrane and 
nerves, it occasions palsy, obstructions of more or less 
duration. Besides the preventive indication, the cure 
might be eflected by the inverse process. The salu- 
tary influence of friction and fomentations confirms 
this opinion ; but a more chemical and systematic 
operation is still to be discovered. 



201 



CHAPTER IX. 



JVhethcr the Moon has any Influence on the Winds. The Injliiencr 
of the Sun. Chang-es of Climate /iroduc eel by fdlmg the IVoods, 

I HAVE hitherto said nothing of the in- 
fluence upon the atinosphere, which some have as- 
cribed to the moon. This influence was admitted 
by the ancients, but with them it was merely a magi- 
cal or astrological connection, rather than a physical 
and natural one. It has, however, like many ancient 
opinions, been revived of late years, in a more rea- 
sonable and scientific form. It is naturally inferred, 
from the influence which the moon is known to have 
upon the tides of the ocean, that it exerts some power 
on a fluid still lighter and more volatile than v/ater ; 
and indeed it is suggested, that the impulses which 
water receives from the moon must be communicated 
through the medium of the air ; that the atmosphere 
must also have its ebbs and flows ; and hence has 
arisen an entire theory of winds. As mere analogy, 

2 c 



202 

however specious, was insufficient for forming rational 
conclusions on this head, an eminent naturalist, M. 
La Marck, has endeavoured to corroborate it by facts. 
The issue of his labours it is impossible to judge of, 
but his method is rational and accurate. He pub- 
lishes a meteorological diary, and predicts the tem- 
perature and winds of the ensuing year, calculated 
according to his lunar theory : thus the truth of his 
system is subjected to the nicest and most palpable 
test. Every month, and every quarter of the moon, 
we have an opportunity of comparing appearances 
with the prognostics. M. La Marck himself enables 
us to do this, if, as we have a right t© expect, he 
gives us the history of the year past with the prog- 
nostics of that which is to come. Whatever be the 
issue of his labours, as to his own theory, truth must 
necessarily result from them, since they contain the 
infallible means of confuting or establishing his no- 
tions on the subject. It would be well, if we pos- 
sessed the means, in every branch of science, of com- 
ing even at negative truths, and were enabled to 
discover what we ought not to believe. 

On this subject, my own enquiries have supplied 
me with too many facts to leave me undecided ; and 
W'Cre I left to judge from the experiments just men- 
tioned., I could not admit any perceptible influence 
of the moon upon the winds. Admitting the action 
of this orb to be the cause of tides, no clear inference 
is deducible as to its action on the air. The great 
ocean of air may experience a general impulse or 



203 

pressure, while its internal and relative changes and 
movements may be unaffected : just as the sea expe- 
riences a libratory motion, while its interior currents 
remain undisturbed. The tides can only be per- 
ceived on the shore, or where the great mass of liquid 
meets with solid obstructions, but the aerial ocean 
has no such limits or obstructions. It is a sea with 
bottom, but without shore, and the undulations on 
its upper surface are, of course, far removed beyond 
human cognizance. Admitting the influence of the 
moon on the winds, they must correspond, in some 
degree, with its phases and revolutions, as the tides 
do ; their courses must be periodical, and the moon's 
irregularities must be manifested by irregularities of 
the same kind in the air. Nothing of this kind, 
however, is observable. Fifteen out of twenty of the 
prognostics in the almanacs are wrong, and without 
admitting the infallibility of the prophet, it is only 
surprising that so few of these predictions chance^ to 
be right. 

The winds are supposed to be most regular on the 
sea ; but even there mariners generally agree, that all 
is caprice and confusion, and that nothing can be 
suspected to have any power over the winds, or to 
afford any clue in decyphering them, but the approach 
to land, the vicinity of capes, the nature of the coast, 
or the proximity to certain latitudes. It is acknow- 
ledged by astronomers, that the period of nineteen 
years, which brings back the same positions of the 
;iiioon, has no similar effect upon the winds, whose 



204 

fluctuations conform to no such period, so that, on 
the whole, there appears no ground whatever for ad- 
mitting the moon to have any influence on the winds. 
The action of the sun is much more clear and de- 
finite, and is manifest, not only in their original for- 
mation, but in all their subordinate movements. This 
influence shows itself in the seeming irregularities of 
the airy currents, since they can always be traced to 
varying degrees of heat, depending on the presence 
or absence, the absorption or reflection, the concen- 
tration or dispersion, of the solar rays ; on the height 
and shape of mountains ; on the free or obstructed 
course of the winds, by a naked or wooded surface. 
The sun, in its equatorial position, produces the 
grand current of the trade wind, by which all other 
winds are influenced. This current is not set in 
motion by the rotary motion of the earth, but by the 
coiitinually changing position of the vertical or meri- 
dional place of the sun, which, as the earth revolves 
from west to east, is continually moving forward in 
the opposite direction, and which is constantly fol- 
lowed by cold dense air, that fills up the vacuity oc- 
casioned by its heat. Hence the trade wind blows 
strongest at noon, and weakest at midnight. When 
the sun approaches the southern tropic, the zone of 
the trade wind follows it, and, in proportion as its do- 
minion enlarges on one side, does it shrink and recede 
on the other. On the contrary, it returns north as 
the sun returns, and regains the spaces on the nor- 



205 

them side, which it had before lost, and loses on the 
southern border in the same proportion. 

This current is more regular in the Pacific Ocean 
than elsewhere, because the sun's action is more uni- 
form on so vast a plane of uninterrupted water : but 
as land absorbs more heat than the sea, this influence 
is changed on approaching the continents, and the 
airy currents are modified by the figure, extent, and 
condition of the coasts and plains of India, Africa, 
and South America. Thus, as in summer the val- 
ley of the Ganges receives the sun's vertical rays, a 
focus of heat and consequent suction takes place east 
of the Ghauts, which divide Malabar from Coroman- 
del, and the current called the summer monsoon is 
produced. This is a south-west gale, hot, stormy, 
and wet, on the Malabar coast, because there it blows 
from the great gulph between India and Arabia, 
while, on the Coromandel side, it is north-west, dry, 
and cold, because it has crossed the inland moun- 
tains, and, in crossing, parted with its moisture and 
heat. 

In winter, the retiring sun gives birth to another 
monsoon, whose course is north-east, because the flat 
spaces near the Bay of Bengal, and the bay itself, are 
covered by a light damp air, which yields easy way 
to the dense and cold air rushing down from the 
snowy regions of Thibet. 

Meanwhile, on the Atlantic, between Africa and Bra- 
zil, the same causes produce different effects, because 
the topographical circumstances are different. The 



206 

equatorial regions of Africa have no lofty mountains, 
which compel a great stream of air ; the focus formed 
by the reflection from its maritime plains, exerts no 
influence beyond a distance of two or three hundred 
miles, and the trade wind begins only beyond the 
sphere of its attraction. 

America is in a widely different situation. Its pe- 
culiarities consist in the shape and distribution of its 
two limbs or members, which form two vast islands 
of nearly equal dimensions ; in the interposition of a 
great lake or gulph between them ; in the narrow and 
mountainous neck or link of Darien, which connects 
the two peninsulas together, and which forms the bot- 
tom of this intervenient water ; and, lastly, in that 
moiyitainous ridge, the highest on the globe, which 
runs due north five thousand miles, forming, on its 
western side, the steep and narrow shore of the Paci- 
fic Ocean, and subsiding on the east into interminable 
plains. From these peculiarities of surface and shape, 
it follows that, in South America, the sun's rays, 
vertical to the broadest part of it six months together, 
that is, from the autumnal to the vernal equinox, 
creates, over all the country east of the Andes, a 
focus of suction, by which the force of the trade wind 
coming from the ocean is redoubled. This centre 
has an attractive force far north, and gives the nor- 
thern trade a north-easterly couse, by which all the 
exhalations of the Atlantic are carried to Guiana. 
All these winds find a common and unsurmountable 
barrier to their further progress at the Andes, and on 



207 

the eastern side of that mountain are all their vapours 
accumulated. According!}', all the regions east of 
this ridge are noted for excessive rains, heat, and 
thunder, while the western side enjoys a mild and 
clear sky, fanned by the winds, which, though 
we call them south-west, are truly, in their nature 
and effects, the north-west, or boreas, of the southern 
hemishere. They come from the antarctic regions, 
and their dryness is itself a proof that no land is to be 
found in this quarter, but that all is ice. 

This wind, which also buffets the Andes, contri- 
butes its opposition to the course of the winds from 
the east. Thus, it is observed by a late historian of 
Chili, Molina, that easterly winds are so rare, that 
only one storm from that quarter is on record, 
namely in 1633. The two adverse currents, when 
they meet, must rise together into the higher regions, 
where they are condensed, and, no doubt, changing 
their directions, slide off, or descend again into the 
middle or lower regions. 

The sun, recrossing the line, and advancing to the 
zenith of Cuba and the Gulph of Mexico, creates a 
suction in the atmosphere of North America, which 
draws the trade wind to that side ; and this is effected 
the more easily, as the attractive force of the South 
American focus is for that time suspended. Hence, 
after the solstice, the easterly winds advance as far as 
30° or 32", north, to the borders of Georgia, and 
almost of the Carolinas ; and hence the general ten- 
dency, as related above, of the secondary winds to- 



208 

wards the frigid zone. And thus it it manifest, that 
the sun is the chief, if not the sole regulator of the 
winds. Its influence may be traced in their greatest 
irregularities, and the singular succession of the 
American seasons, derived wholly from the winds, is 
only a new example of the sun's power. 

It is very strange, that where the cold is so severe, 
the winter should commence so late. With us, in 
latitude 45°, and even 42°, October is scarcely half 
gone, before we have daily rains, fogs, and frosts, 
for four or five months. In America, winter does 
not properly commence, even in the northern states, 
till the middle of December; and there are always 
three or four grand efforts, as it were, before the 
northerly winds gain a final conquest over the south- 
ern ones, and thus accomplish a thorough and lasting 
change in the temperature. 

The first of these efforts regularly takes place about 
the autumnal equinox, in the ten days preceding or 
following, with a strong gale, somewhere between 
north-east and north-west, occasioned, as before- 
mentioned, by the rushing in of the northern atmo- 
sphere into the spaces quitted by the sun. This gale 
may be termed the first wave of the great semi-annual 
tide of the aerial ocean, and it brings along with it 
the rain it had taken up from the surface of the ocean 
over which it swept. 

The first coolness of the season arises from the 
evaporation of these rains, which is followed by the 
earliest frosts, beginning at the line of the Patapsco 



209 

in the maritime country, and from the Ohio in the 
western districts. These frosts do not show them- 
selves in the plains south of the Potowmack and 
Ohio; north of these rivers, and in the mountains, 
they ripen the maize, by opening the husk, and thus 
exposing the grains to the sun. The equilibrium of 
the atmosphere is soon re-established ; the west and 
south-west blow again, and bring back all the heats 
of summer : and hence the periodical appearance and 
occasional violence onfall fevers. 

About the middle of October, when the sun is 20" 
or 25° south of the line, a second change takes place: 
another gale chills us from the northern quarter, as 
if some particular position of the sun again disturbed 
the equilibrium of the air ; and its rays, being now 
vertical to the eastermost coast of South America, 
appear suddenly to bend the great stream of the trade 
wind to spread along the coast of Brazil, the slope of 
which is favourable to a quicker diffusion. Now en- 
sue fresh rains, fresh evaporation, and new frosts, 
which extend themselves as far as Georgia. Winter 
now appears confirmed in the possession of the whole 
country : the foliage begins to wither and fall ; their 
lively green fades into violet, dull spotted red, pale 
yellow, and lastly into rusty brown ; and these hues 
impart to the autumnal landscape in America a magic 
splendour, entirely unknown in those of Europe*. 

* At this season, the most curious and enchanting spectacle in 
all the forest is the hiccory. This is a shapely and compact tree, 
crowded with leaves, most of which entirely cha^^ge thsir hue 

2 D - 



210 

The north-west and north-cast become now more 
frequent; the south-west slackens its efforts, and de- 
clines towards the west; the air is colder, but the sky- 
is still clear. The sun is only hot at noon, and a se- 
ries of fine days are expected near November, which 
is called the Indian summer. In France, an interval 
like this is termed St. Martin's summer, and in Eng- 
land All-hallown summer* ; but it is rare, and so 
brief with us, at present, that we only know it tradi- 
tionally. 

A third more formidable effort is made about the 
close of November. Rains and frosts multiply upon 
us, the leaves fall, the north-western gales whistle 
with a keener and stronger blast among the naked 
branches, but fogs do not overshadow the earth as 
with us. The sky, especially in the north, is clear. 
November and a part of December are a series of al- 
ternate frosts and thaws. In the middle of December 
frosts and snows come on in Vermont, Maine, and 
New Hampshire, and gradually extend southward to 
the high lands of New York. In January a thaw usu- 
ally occurs, succeeded by extreme cold. The deep- 



into a very bright yellow, before they fall. When thus clothed, 
it suggests to the eye the appearance of a gigantic flower. The 
gradual and partial changes in the leaves exhibit all the varieties 
of green and yellow successively, and at the same time, in the 
same and in different leaves. — Trans. 

* Its American name it probably owes to its being predicted by 
the natives to the first emigrants, who took the early frosts as the 
signal of winter. — Trans. 



211 

est snow and severest cold occur in February. The 
progress of the season is similar, except as to the de- 
gree of temperature, in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and 
Virginia. According to Ramsay, the frost kills the 
orange tree, even in February, in Carolina : because 
the north west is apt to revive with unusual violence, 
after a few moist warm days. 

March, when the vernal equinox is at hand, is 
usually bleak and stormy, with falls of snow from the 
north-east or north-west. The sun's return towards 
the northern tropic might be expected to bring back 
hot weather, but the prevalence of north-east w^inds, 
the long previous reign of the north-west, more im- 
petuous than ever, and the coldness which the earth 
has acquired from its influence, retards vegetation so 
much, that the ground is as bare and desolate through- 
out April as in March. 

It is not till May, even in the latitudes 36° and 37°, 
that the forest becomes green ; a delay the more sur- 
prising, as the sun's rays are unsufferably hot towards 
the last of April, and the difference in seasons be- 
tween Virginia and Canada is not more than ten days, 
for the leaves are unfolded at Quebec by the 15th of 
May, only 25 days after breaking-iip^. The change 
is so great, that it seems as if a carpet of verdure was 
suddenly spread out on a floor 800 miles in extent. 

* For several years, at Paris, I have noticed that the horse- 
chesiiut in the Thuilleries shows its first leaves between the 24th 
of March and the 5th of April, while the oaks iu the forests dis- 
play their foliage a month later. 



212 

Hence it is that, as travellers have often observed, the 
United States knows no spring ; the transition is im- 
mediate from severe cold to scorching heat, and the 
incongruous assemblage is constantly seen, of a freez- 
ing vi'ind and a burning sun ; a wintry landscape and 
a summer sky. 

When, at length, vegetation receives a start, its 
progress is extremely rapid. Blossoms are quickly 
followed by fruit, and fruit reaches maturity much 
more speedily than with us. When the sun ap- 
proaches nearest to the zenith of the continent, and 
diOuiCS its greatest heat, the northern blasts are com- 
pletely overcome by the southern and south-\Aestern. 
June is accompanied with the most intense heats. 
July, more settled heats, and storms. August and 
September produce the most unwholesome and op- 
pressive fervours, because the air is then subject to 
dead calms. If at this period there be three weeks of 
drought, the heat is so great, as we are assured by 
Belknap, Rush, and others, that spontaneous fires 
take place in the woods and marshes*. 



* Some substances, such as powdered charcoal, with iron filings 
and sulphur, linseed oil, lamp-black, and the like, are liable, in 
certain dgrees of heat and moisture, to spontaneous combustion. 
If such substances occur in swamps, they are doubtless liable to 
be self-kindicd. The fires in the forests of America are not spon- 
taneous, or, if they were, they argue not excess of heat. When 
kindled by accident, their continuance and diffusion imply dry- 
ness ; but, for obvious reasons, they would rage more in dry cold, 
than in dry hot weather. — .Trans. 



213 

This spontaneous ignition is incomprehensible to 
mc, and, till demonstrated by facts, I shall be dis- 
posed to attribute these fires to lightning, or to the 
negligence of woodmen or travellers. 

At length the autumnal equinox returns, and the 
series of phenomena already described is repeated, 
with certain variations indeed, but with perceptible 
uniformity. Time is sure to bring back the north- 
east and north-west winds, whence the air chiefly de- 
rives its coldness. Afterwards, it revives the summer 
gales of the south and south-west, the great dispen- 
sers of tempests and heat. The transition is invari- 
able, from heat to cold, by means of westerly winds, 
in autumn, which is the evening of the year, and 
from cold to heat by easterly winds, in spring, which 
is the morning of the great annual day. Thus 
these winds successively dispense four months of heat, 
five or six of cold and storm, and only two or three 
of temperate weather. 

An opinion has, of late years, gained ground in the 
United States, that partial changes have taken place 
in the climate of the country, which have shown them- 
selves in proportion as the land has been cleared. 
*' Throughout Canada," says Liancourt, " it is ob- 
served, that the summer heats are longer and more 
fervent, and the winter cold more temperate and tran- 
sitory, than they used to be." The same is men- 
tioned by Kalm, as early as 1749. 

In 1690 Lahontan writes, " I am leaving Quebec, 
and I set sail on the 20th of November, a thing never 



214 

heard of before." I ha\'e already related that, a cen- 
tury ago, marine insurances were always conditioned 
for sailing from the river St Laurence on the 11th of 
November, but now the term is extended to Christ- 
mas day. 

Williams, the historian of Vermont, quotes several 
facts in proof of a material change. " When our an- 
cestors," says he, " came to New England, the wea- 
ther and seasons were uniform and regular ; the win- 
ter set in about the end of November, and continued 
till the middle of February. During this period, a 
cold, dr}^ and clear atmosphere prevailed, with 
scarcely any interruption. Winter ended with Fe- 
bruary, and spring came suddenly upon us, without 
those fluctuations from cold to heat, and from heat to 
cold, which we experience at present. Summer was 
extremely hot while it lasted, but it was generally 
limited to six weeks. Autumn and September be- 
gan together, and the harvest was stored before the 
end of that month. The scene has greatly changed 
since that time, in the cultivated part of the country : 
the seasons are different, the weather more variable, 
the winter become shorter, and interrupted by great 
and sudden thaws. Spring is a scene of continual 
vicissitude, and these changes of temperature are ex- 
tremely hurtful to vegetation. Summer is not so hot, 
but it" lasts longer. Autumn is most tardy in be- 
ginning and ending, and the harvest is scarcely 
finished before the second week in November : nor 
does winter become settled and severe before the end 



215 

of December." Such is the picture of the northern 
states. 

The same akerations have been traced by Dr. 
Rush* in the climate of Pennsylvania. He believes, 
from the accounts transmitted down from the early 
colonists, that a material change has taken place in 
this respect : that the springs are colder, and the 
autumns milder, than formerly, so that cattle are 
housed a month later than they used to be : rivers 
freeze later in the year, and are earlier in their break- 
ing up, &:c. 

Mr. Jefl'erson has likewise noticed a change in the 
climate of Virginia. He says, that even in the me- 
mory of the middle aged, both the heats and colds 
have greatly moderated. Snows are neither so heavy 
nor so frequent. 

I have collected similar testimonies, in the whole 
course of my journies, in the western as well as 
through the maritime country. On the Ohio, at 
Gallipolis, Washington (Kentucky), Frankfort, Lex- 
ington, Cincinnati, Louisville, Niagara, Albany, 
every where the same changes have been mentioned 
and insisted on. Longer summers, later autumns, 
shorter winters, lighter and less lasting snows, and 
colds less violent, were talked of by every body ; and 
these changes have been always described, in the 
newly settled districts, not as gradual and slow, but 

* See various papers by him in the American Museum, vols. 
VI and VII, and a memoir on the climate of New York, in vol. 
VII, to the same purpose. 



21G 

as quick and sudden, in proportion to the extent of 
cultivation. 

There seems, therefore, no room to doubt the truth 
of a sensible change in the climate of the country. 
Dr. Rush, indeed, seems to hesitate in his belief, 
after noticing the severity of several late winters, and 
thinks some errors may have arisen from the w^ant of 
thermometers : but these doubts must vanish before 
so great a multitude of witnesses, and of known facts. 
The causes of this revolution may be assigned with 
sufficient probability. Mr. Williams' reasonings on 
,>**his subject are built upon plain and intelligible facts, 
and we cannot but agree with him in ascribing this 
change to the clearing of the ground. 

He assures us, that in every district where the trees 
are felled, the air and the earth experience great 
changes in their temperature, in the course of two or 
three years. The settler has scarcely removed a few 
acres of forest, before the ground, exposed to the 
sun's rays, acquires, for a foot deep, a heat 10 or 12 
degrees greater than the ground still covered with 
trees. 

He forms this estimate from some experiments 
expressly made for the purpose. Two thermometers, 
sunk a foot deep into the earth, one in an open field, 
and the other in the adjoining forest, even before the 
leaves were out, gave the following results : 



217 



Date of obser- Heat in the In the forest Difference 
votion field 



May 23 


52" 


46° 


6° 


28 


57 


48 


9 


June 15 


64 


51 


13 


27 


62 


51 


11 


July 16 


62 


51 


11 


30 


65 


55 


10 


Aug. 15 


68 


58 


10 


31 


59i 


55 


4i 


Sept. 15 


59i 


55 


41 


Oct. 1 


59^^ 


55 


4i 


15 


49 


49 





Nov. 1 


43 


43 





16 


431 


431 






From these observations it appears, that in winter 
the earth, whether naked or shaded, has the same 
temperature, but in summer there is a diiference 
greater as the temperature of the air is higher. This 
agrees with the statements of Umphraville, who says, 
that at Hudson's Bay the ground thaws to the depth 
of four feet in open places, but only two feet in the 
woods. So Belknap informs us, that in New Hamp- 
shire the snow vanishes from the open grounds in 
April, the noon-day sun, unobstructed, being then 
sufficiently powerful to melt it, but continues still 
under trees, though leafless, the branches and trunks 
affording some shade : and this corroborates the repre- 

2 E 



218 

sentations of Mr. Williams, as to the duration and 
severity of ancient winters, and their deeper snows. 

Mr. Williams proceeds to observe, that the 10 de- 
grees of heat added to the open ground must sensibly 
affect the atmosphere ; and we may add, that the air 
thus heated must rise upward, and make room for a 
side wind from the woods, which, being heated and 
raised in its turn, must diffuse a warm air far beyond 
the precincts of the field. 

" Clearing the ground augments the evaporation, 
and thus dries the surface, as is daily noticed in all 
parts of the United States, where brooks are conti- 
nually drying up, and swamps changing into dry 
ground," which is a new reason for the encrease of 
heat in the general atmosphere. 

" Clearing the ground evidently diminishes the 
quantity and duration of the snows. Within a century, 
snow coveredNew England for three months together, 
that is, from the beginning of December to the be- 
ginning of March. So they do still in the uncleared 
grounds, while in the cultivated parts they are neither 
so deep nor so permanent. 

" There is a striking change in the winds. The 
western winds decline daily, while those from the 
eastward are continually increasing, and extend fur- 
ther than formerly. Fifty years ago they scarcely 
reached forty miles from the sea shore, whereas they 
are now felt, in spring, twenty miles further, nay 
even at the foot of the inland mountains, which are 



219 

seventy or eighty miles from the sea. It is plain too 
that they extend exactly in proportion as the land is 
divested of wood." This follows from the open 
ground being more heated, and thus the atmosphere 
above more easily admitting the air of the Atlantic. 

Mr. Jefferson describes the same thing as taking 
place in Virginia. " The eastern and south-eastern 
breezes come on generally in the afternoon. They 
have advanced into the country very perceptibly with- 
in the memory of many persons now living. They 
formerly did not penetrate far beyond Williamsburg, 
but are now frequent at Richmond, and now and 
then reach the mountains. They deposit most of 
their moisture before they get thus far. As the lands 
become more cleared, it is probable they will extend 
still farther westward." 

This extensive change of climate must, therefore, 
be ascribed to two causes. First, to the clearing of 
the ground, and thus producing a mass of warm air, 
which is constantly increasing. Secondly, to the ac- 
cess of warm winds, through these openings, by 
which the country is dried more rapidly, and the at- 
mosphere more heated. 

The same thing now happens in America, which 
formerly took place in Europe, and probably in Asia, 
and every where in the old world, history represent- 
ing the climate of all countries as colder formerly than 
at present. Horace and Juvenal mention the annual 
freezing of the Tyber, which is now a stranger to ice. 
Ovid's picture of the Thracian Bosphorus has no re- 



220 

semblance to its present condition. Dacia, Pannonia, 
the Tauric Chersonese, and even Macedon, are des- 
cribed as in a state similar to Moscow in our times ; 
yet now the olive thrives in these countries, and the 
vine is common. France, in the days of Caesar and 
Julian, was distinguished for its frozen rivers, where 
ice served as bridges in the winter, but this is now 
rare, and when it happens is of short duration*. 

I cannot, however, believe with Mr. Williams, 
that the colds have much diminished, in degree, in 
the course of the last century. The cold of 1633 
was, according to him, greater than that of 1782, was 
attended with similar circumstances, and was the 
greatest ever known ; but this estimate is merely con- 
jectural, and his reasonings cannot supply the want 
of thermometrical observations at the former of these 
periods. Thermometers, indeed, were unknown in 
America till about the year 1740. This conjecture 
is the less plausible, if we admit, what I think I have 
proved, that the north-west wind is the great source 
of cold in North America, since this wind has under- 
gone no alteration in its propertiesf. The experi- 

* If any change of seasons or wind has been experienced in 
France, within the last ten years, we may venture to ascribe it 
to the great destruction of the forests, which the revolutionary 
times occasioned, and which has disturbed the equipoise and 
changed the cours? of the aerial currents. 

t Though the state of the countries beyond the lakes is unal- 
tered, yet this wind cannot fail to be warmed by blowing over dry 
and open fields on this side of them. If the summer winds can 



221 

ments of Dr. Ramsay afford analogies that will justify 
us in dissenting from this theory. This writer, on 
comparing the observations of Dr. Chalmers, made 
between 1750 and 1760, with his own, made from 
1790 to 1794, found a difference of only half a degree 
in the heat, a difference so small, that it may reason- 
ably be ascribed to a difference in the instruments : 
but if the heat has not encreased, we are obliged to 
infer, that the cold has not diminished. What ap- 
pears to be demonstrated, on this head, is, that win- 
ter is shorter, the summer longer, and the autumn 
later, than they formerly were, but that the cold, as 
the last ten years sufficiently evince, is as violent as 
ever. 

Mr, Mackenzie, who admits these changes, sup- 
poses the cause to be inherent in the globe itself, be- 
cause he has witnessed them in places where the 
ground remains in its primitive state. But if these 
places, which he does not mention, be in Canada, 
they tend only to confirm my supposition, since the 
removal of forests, in certain mountains and slopes 
of Genessee and Kentucky, would unavoidably intro- 
duce considerable streams of mild air into Upper and 
Lower Canada, from the south-west. These aerial 
currents have never yet been sufficiently attended to, 

derive any warmth from, or impart any to, cleared ground, the 
north-west, in blowing over these spaces, must be somewhat in- 
fluenced, and must arrive on the borders of the Chesapeake some- 
what differently modified from what it would be, were all the 
northern states covered with forest. — Trans. 



222 

but experience will prove, that their influence is very 
extensive over the general and local temperature*. 
It is quite possible, however, though nobody cer- 
tainly knows, that other causes may produce the ap- 
pearances we witness. 

It still remains a question, whether these changes 
are real improvements in the climate of America ; and 
this point is almost settled by Mr. Williams, in the 
comparison he draws between ancient and present 
times, though in a manner unfavourable to the latter. 
The experience of physicians unfortunately confirms 
his conclusions. Dr. Rush, whose enquiries have 
been extensive and exact, informs us, that bilious 
fevers have every where followed the cutting down of 
the \voods, the clearing of lands, and the drying of 
swamps. That the culture of several years is re- 
quired to mitigate or extirpate them. That pleuri- 
sies and other inflammatory diseases, which were 
formerly almost the only ones known, have grown 
much less common, which proves an evident alteration 
in the purity of the air. 

These ideas on the influence of woods, and of 
ground newly cultivated, are familiarly known ; but 
a more particular detail of the evils connected with the 
American climate may be of some use in pointing 
out the means of prevention, and I shall now there- 
fore proceed to give it. 

* It is to these that the thunder and hail storms are owing, by 
vhich certain districts are infested, while the country a mile or' 
two off is exempted from them. 



223 



CHAPTER X. 



Of the reigning Diseases in the United States. 

EXCLUSIVE of maladies common to all 
countries, there appears to me to be four diseases, 
whose prevalence entitle them to be considered as the 
direct offspring of the soil and climate of this country. 
The first of these are coughs, catarrhs, and all those 
complaints arising from obstructed perspiration. 
Colds may be reckoned the endemic of the United 
States. They are rife at all seasons, though most so 
in winter, and about the vernal equinox. They arc 
evidently produced by the sudden changes in the tem- 
perature, so characteristic of the climate. Women are 
more subject to colds than men, plainly because their 
recluse and sedentary life makes their constitutions 
more delicate, and their dress is thin and light. The 
French fashions have already reached America. 
Even in the fury of their revolution, nothing was 
current with this people, but what was stamped by 
the practice and example of England. I found tlie 



224 

Parisian dress of 1793 in full vogue at Philadelphia 
in 1795, and that of 1794 did not reach that city till 
1796. Enquiring into their history, for the interme- 
diate years, I discovered that they were obliged to 
pass over to London, before they could meet with a 
kind reception in America. 

In the maritime toWns, where the emulation of 
European modes is more eager and servile, colds fre- 
quently arise from overheated rooms, balls, tea parties, 
and feather beds*. Habitual or repeated coughs are 
sufficiently weakening to the lungs, and these are the 
necessary consequences of repeated colds. People of 
fashion will sometimes have four or five severe colds 
in a winter, for the rich are particularly subject to 
them. Hence it is that, in a few years, the lungs 
become incurably distempered, and the miserable vic- 
tim is carried oflP by a rapid or lingering consumption. 

All travellers in America speak of the prevalence 
of this disease, which is chiefly fatal to young married 
women, and females in the bloom of youth. It pre- 
vails least in the southern and western states, the 
reason of which is truly assigned by Dr. Currie of 
Liverpoolf. He tells us, that in Carolina and Vir- 
ginia the warmth of the air gives a determination to 
the skin, and carries off through its pores all morbific 
humours, and the crudities of indigestion, themselves 
the reciprocal causes and effects of colds : whereas, ' 

* Among the German colonists the fashion is to sleep on a 
a feather bed, and imdcr a down one. — Trans. 
t American Museum, vol. V. 



225 

in the middle and northern states, the cold moist at- 
mosphere shuts up the pores of the skin, and im- 
prisons in the body all those evil humours, which, 
in searching for an issue, are sure to fasten on the 
weakest parts or organs^. 

There is reason to believe that the taking cold is 
facilitated by the use of very hot tea, which the peo- 
ple are accustomed to drink. I observed, not only 
in them, but myself, that the moisture it excites on 
the skin renders it more susceptible of cold, and that 

* My own experience, on iny return from Egypt, confirms 
these remarks. At Cairo, I drank five or six dishes of coffee 
daily, without inconvenience, but at Paris, where I passed a se- 
dentary life, I could not drink a single dish fasting, by the month 
of October, without nervous and feverish sensations ; I may like- 
wise add, that during three years which I spent ip Syria and 
Egypt, I had no disease but the influenza once, in 1783, whereas, 
in the United States, during a similar period of three years, I was 
twice severely attacked with malignant fever, I had five or six 
violent colds, and a rheumatic affection, that has proved incu- 
lpable. Yet in both countries I equally conformed to the regimen 
of the natives. — V. A conformity to the American regi- 

men was the most effectual method of shortening and destroying 
life that our author could have adopted. An infinite proportion 
of the diseases which exist in the world are owing to absurd 
modes and vicious habits, and the dress and diet of Europe are 
assidiously copied in America, where it is far more injurious, 
from the nature of the climate. The great curse of the coun- 
try, and the source of ninety-nine hundredths of the maladies 
which ravage it, is the abuse of spirituous liquors. If the influ- 
ence of evil moral and pernicious physical habits were subtract- 
ed from the causes of disease, the chmate would be next to no- 
thing. — Trans. 

2 F 



226 

I have often caught cold on going out after a break- 
fast of tea, in cool weather*. I was assured that, in 
my case, these ill effects were owing to my not being 
accustomed to it, but the effects, though less conspi- 
cuous in those whom habit has inured to it, cannot 
be less real. Indeed, the whole system of American 
diet is directly hostile to health, and productive of 
habitual indigestions, which are extremely favourable 
to taking cold. Since pulmonary affections are de- 
rived chiefly from colds, and these proceed from the 
sudden and violent changes of the temperature, 
phthisis may be considered as the characteristic of 
this climate. 

2. Travellers equally agree as to the prevalence of 
defluxions on the gums, and of the early decay of 
teeth. You will scarcely find, among ten persons 
under thirty, one whose teeth are entirely sound ; and 
it is a cause of particular regret, that young and beau- 
tiful women, between fifteen and twenty, have gene- 
rally their teeth disfigured with black spots, and the 
greater part of them gone. There are many opinions 
as to the cause of this general ruin. Some physicians 
ascribe it to the use of salt meat, which is, indeed, 

* Voluey's case is certainly a singular one. Among the causes 
of coldfi, this would not have readily occurred to common obser- 
vers. The remark, though probably fallacious in all cases (since 
hot drink will hardly produce immediate perspiration, except in 
very hot weather, when it can do no harm in this way), is far 
more applicable to the English, with whom tea, boiling hot, is far 
more common and general than with any other people. — Trans. 



227 

universal, some to the use of tea, and the excessive 
use of sweet things. Dr. Kahn, comparing the diet 
of different nations and classes of society, seems to 
have lighted on the true cause. He thinks tea inju- 
rious to the teeth, not by its own intrinsic properties, 
but merely as a hot liquor. Experience, indeed, has 
long since informed us, that every hot liquor pro- 
duces a sensibility in the teeth, which shows itself 
afterwards when coming into contact with any thing- 
cold. The enamel, or exterior hard coat, becomes 
soft, and hastens to dissolution. Hence the general 
complaint of bad teeth in the noith of Europe, for in 
all cold countries hot liquors impart agreeable sensa- 
tions to the whole frame, while cold drinks are most 
agreeable in hot countries ; and it is remarkable that 
in the latter, as in Africa, Arabia, and India, the 
teeth are generally fair and sound. 

This conclusion acquires some force from a fact 
observed, within the last twenty years, in the United 
States. Before that time, bad teeth were never found 
in an Indian, and the food of these tribes is commonly 
cold. Some few individuals, particularly women, of 
the Oneida, Seneca, and Tuscorora tribes, havin^^ 
adopted the use of tea, their teeth began, in the course 
of three years, visibly to decay. Bougainville also 
tells us, that the wretched savages of Terra del Fuego 
have all bad teeth, and that they live almost wholly 
on shell-fish, roasted and eaten burning hot^. 

* Volney seems to haye adopted erroneous ideas as to the use 
•f tea' in America. This, or any other foreign infusion, is far 



228 

Salt meat may, howevdr, be admitted as nn auxi- 
liary cause : it is certain that the scurvy, a disease 
particularly hostile to the teeth and gums, is the conse- 
quence of the excessive use of salted meat. A tainted 
breath is one of the symptoms and concomitants of 
scurvy as well as of had teeth ; hence we may conclude, 
that salt meat, the digestion and imperfect chyle of 
which conveys impure exhalations to the lungs, istha 
primary cause of caries, and that hot liquors contribute 
to the evil, directly by their influence on the teeth, 
and indirectly by debilitating and vitiating the diges- 
tive organs. This effect cannot be attributed to fresh 
meat, since the Tartars, the Indians of America, and 
all carnivorous animals enjoy white and sound teeth. 
The blame cannot belong to the use of sugar and 
other sweets, because the Africans and Hindoos, who 
delight in the sugar cane and in sacharine fruits, have 
good teeth, and because they are rather purified and 
cleansed by those acids, w^hich are formed by heat, 
and which abound in hot climates. If these conclu- 
sions be just, how much is it incumbent on parents 
and physicians, in every country, to prohibit or dis- 
countenance the use of hot liquors and salt meats, 

from being so general here as in Europe. Milk, either raw or 
boiled, is the usual drink, as a meal, in almost all country places ; 
and as to the sensibility to cold being augmented by the use of /icr 
liquids, this is a questionable point, since well water is in winter 
warm to the teeth as well as to the othei' organs of sensation, 
and painfully cold in summer, though the temperature is the 
same. — Trans. 



229 

especially in the young ! Were this caution properly 
attended to, defluxions on the gums, arising from vi- 
cissitudes of temperature, and which are the second- 
ary causes of the ruin of teeth, would seldom occur. 

3. Autumnal iniermittents prevail in this country 
to a degree scarcely credible, especially in newly 
cleared grounds, in the neighbourhood of rivers, 
pools, and marshes. In the autunm of 1796, in a 
journey of seven hundred miles, I scarcely found 
twenty houses free from agues and fevers. All the 
banks of the Ohio, a great part of Kentucky, the 
shores of Lake Erie, the Genessee country, and its 
lakes and rivers, are annually infested by them. 

In a journey of 250 miles, from Cincinnati to De- 
troit, begun on the 8th of September, in a company 
of twenty-five persons, we did not encamp one night 
without one at least of the party being seized with a 
periodical fever. At Greenville, the head quarters 
of the army that had just conquered the country, 
three hundred persons, from among three hundred 
and seventy, were sick of fevers. On arriving at De- 
troit only three of our party were in health, and on 
the ensuing day, our commander major Swan and. 
myself were t)oth seized v/ith a malignant fever. 
This fever annually visits the garrison at Miami 
Fort, where it has more than once assumed the form 
of vellow fever. 

These periodical fevers are not immediately fatal, 
but they sensibly enfeeble the constitution and shorten 
life. Many others beside myself have observed, 



230 

that in the southern states a person is as old at fifty, 
as in Europe at sixty-five or seventy ; and I have 
heard many Englishmen declare, that their friends, 
after a few years residence in the southern ot even 
middle states, appeared as old again as they would 
have done in their native country. If these fevers 
seize their victim at the end of October, they are 
likely to continue all winter, and reduce him to a 
state of wretched languor and debility. Canada, and 
the adjacent cold countries are little subject to them. 
They prevail most in the low and level country, and 
more near the sea than among the hills. Hence we 
might suppose that a high situation would be gene- 
rally preferred by settlers, but health is never allowed 
to enter into competition with profit, and the more 
fertile plains and hollows are therefore chosen, though 
at the expence of health, and the hazard of life. I 
have often attempted to reason with the farmer, on 
his own thrifty principles, thus : " The lowlands 
yield you forty bushels of Indian corn, or tv/enty 
bushels of wheat, an acre, whereas, you say, you can 
get but half that produce from the sides of the Ken- 
tucky- and Virginian mountains. True : but in the 
plain you are sick half the year, and in the hills you 
are hale and strong to labour all the year round. So 
things arc just equal, unless you remember that you 
are cheerful and alert in one case, and your Poor 
Richard says, that health is better than ^vealth ; but 
in the valley you are sick, miserable, and spiritless 
the whole year." 



231 

" That is true," said a country clergyman in reply ; 
** but you omit one important circumstance : that of 
'having nothing to do, in the lowlands, for half the 
year." 

My friend was in the right, for I have often heard 
it observed, that the maritime districts of Virginia, 
though extremely sickly, are still preferred by num- 
bers to the mountainous and wholesome regions, be- 
cause fish and oysters abound there, and a subsist- 
ence costs little or nothing*. 

The favourite preventative of fevers in America is 
what is called bitters, of which the basis is some kind 
of wine or spirit, and this potion, whatever the reader 
may believe, is generally efficacious. I have known 
many families, among Virginian and Pennsylvanian 
farmers, in which those who drank beer or water were 
liable to agues, while the rest, who used spirituous 
liquors, perl-iaps to excess, were entirely exempt 
from them. 

This opinion is likewise adopted in Holland, where 
tobacco and strong liquors are generally deemed an- 
tidotes to the unwholesome damps of the soil and 
climate. I have known two instances in which the 
draining and drying up of a small pool and rivulet has 

* The true state of this case is, that rnen are every where 
reckless of health. In the choice of an abode, and their con- 
tinuance in it, as well as in all other things, they do not regulate 
their conduct by any such considerations. Habit reconciles us to 
every thing, and a stupid confidence in our own good fortune 
possesses us.— Trans. 



232 

completely freed a family from the annual visits of 
intermittent fevers. 

During my abode in Corsica, in 1792, several, 
facts of no small importance occurred, which were 
connected with this subject. Several posts in that 
island are annually annoyed with fevers : among 
others, the post of San Fiorenza, which is situated 
on the borders of a pestilential bog, of about forty- 
five acres. Here, at the end of summer, and for a 
few weeks in autumn, these fevers assume a malig- 
nant cast, in consequence of the copious putrid exha- 
lations set loose by the intense heat of the sun. The 
whole garrison would entirely perish, if they were 
not relieved every two or three weeks. The French 
physicians, after the trial of many remedies, at length 
observed, that only two posts in the whole island 
were entirely exempted from this pest. These were 
Vivario and Vitzavona, and their peculiar salubrity 
was discovered, as is usual in such cases, only by 
chance. A Swiss officer, who fell dangerously sick 
at San Fiorenza, desired to be removed to his own 
regiment, a part of which happened to be stationed 
at Vivario, and here, in a fortnight, he was restored 
to perfect health. This experiment being made on 
some other sick soldiers, it was crowned with such 
success, tliat thenceforth it became the custom to send 
thither, as to an hospital, all desperate cases of fever, 
and the disease is always found to yield to the sana- 
tive properties of the air, in the course of never more 
than eleven days. 



Q33 

Now these two posts have a situation widely dif- 
ferent from all the others. They are remote from 
any stagnant water, and hang like eagles' nests, on 
the sides of the ridge which divides the whole island 
into two parts. They are about 6900 feet above the 
sea, and the atmosphere around them more nearly 
resembles that of Norway or the middle Alps, than 
that of the rest of the island. The temperature never 
rises to 70 degrees but in the three summer months. 
For three or four months they are buried in snow, by 
which all communication with the neighbouring dis- 
tricts is sometimes cut off, for eight or ten weeks to- 
gether. The wind is always blowing, and generally 
hard, as they occupy two ends of a narrow pass across 
the rocky summit of the mountains, which in other 
places is almost impassable. 

Vitzavona, on the- western side, is somewhat 
damper, and therefore less healthy. Till 1793, these 
posts were garrisoned by Grisons, fifteen or twenty 
soldiers being allotted to each, because the air and 
situation, though dreary and desolate, were such as 
they had been accustomed to. Their diet, especially in 
winter, was salt meat, sour crout, and a poor kind of 
beer or wine, and generally biscuit. There was 
scarcely room about the fort to walk, and in winter 
they were often imprisoned within doors a fortnight 
together, by the storms that raged without. Their 
life, indeed, was more like that of men on shipboard 
than on land. I have myself visited these lofty 
abodes, and speak of them, therefore, from my own 

2 G 



234 

knowledge. The malady most incident to the garri- 
son is pleurisy. 

Their health cannot be ascribed to their diet, be- 
cause, in the low country, this food would generate 
ague and scurvy. It can only be attributed to the 
air, which, at this height, is light, pure, and cool, 
while the atmosphere of the coast is loaded with heat, 
damp, and every pernicious exhalation. 

Hence the simple mode of cure is to breathe a 
pure and elastic air. This is generally, though not 
always, found in lofty situations, in our climates ; for 
there are places in France high and airy, but still un- 
wholesome, in consequence of lying to the leeward 
of pools or marshes : and this is still more common 
in hot countries. There are heights in Corsica and 
Italy wholly uninhabitable, because, though far re- 
mote from damp and boggy places, they lie in the 
course of the winds that usually blow from them. 
Such is the case in Bengal, where there are woody 
eminences, infested, in spite of their flattering ap- 
pearances, with what is there termed the hill fe^oer. 
It will hardly be supposed, with such a name, that it 
is no more than the malady of low lands and bogs : 
it is however the same, produced not only by the 
damps that gather, during the monsoons, under these 
immense woods, but by the vapours which rise from 
the subject plains, and are wafted hither and entangled 
among these summits. To render lofty situations 
healthy, they must be dry, cool, and inaccessible tq 
noxious winds. 



235 

The want of such a natural atmosphere may perhaps 
be supphed by some process of art, by which it may 
be manufactured, and by which noxious vapours may 
be neutralized. Chemistry has made many disco- 
veries, in this respect, of late years, and more may 
be expected from the zeal with which that science 
continues to be prosecuted. It is found that the 
common air contains, as one of its ingredients, a vital 
or respirable fluid called oxygene, and that air is pure 
and healthful, according to the relative quantity of 
this ingredient. Lavoisier ascertained that the pro- 
portion in common air is about one fourth ; Ber- 
thollet made it somewhat less : but they may both 
have been exact in their experiments, as air, in dif- 
ferent situations, may well be supposed to differ in 
this particular. It probably varies in different coun- 
tries, and to ascertain these differences, at different 
places, in different climates, and at different heights 
above the surface of the earth, would probably be 
highly useful. The cold dry air of Siberia might be 
compared with the sultry moisture of Porto Bello and 
Guiana, or the dry heat of Zaara and Kedjas, and 
balloons might be of use in examining the different 
strata of the atmosphere. At present it seems cer- 
tain, that, in the temperate zone, the air of high places 
is purer, because it contains more oxygen, and fewer 
terrestrial exhalations. At Vivario and Vitzavona, 
indeed, the specific gravity of the air is somewhat less 
than that of oxygen, but it must necessarily accumu- 



236 

late there, when driven by the vapours from the sultry 
coast. 

It has lately appeared, that oxygenated muriatic acid 
gas will separate common air from its infectious and 
noxious properties or vapours, and were this alone suf- 
ficient for the preservation of health, we should be for- 
tunate in possessing such simple means : but much re- 
mains to be known concerning the various kinds of 
poisonous fluids that float in the atmosphere. Some of 
these are so subtle, that no instrument has hitherto 
diluted or seized them. Considering their effects on 
the human constitution, they may be deemed poisons, 
which act sometimes on the nervous and sometimes 
on the sanguineous fluid, producing a fermentation in 
the mass, in the manner of leaven. Different .viiown 
gasses, like the oxygenated muriatic, act upon life 
silently and suddenly, not merely through the lungs, 
but through the pores of the skin, and many unknown 
gasses may possess the same power*. 

To the action of such fluids must be traced those 
epidemics which prevail in certain countries, and in 
certain states of the weather. Fevers accompanied 
with shivering, and with alternate increase and de- 
crease, have, in their periodical returns, something 
analogous to the great functions of hunger and sleep, 
and may therefore suggest a belief, that the source of 

* In what immediately follows, I have been puzzled to extract 
a clear and distinct meaning from Volney's obscure and verbose 
phraseology. — Trans. 



237 

the disease is rather in the nervous system, than in 
the stomach or blood. The sudden appearance of 
fever, on exposure to the sun, to wet, or to extremes 
of cold and heat, may be owing to the action of some 
gazeous principle on the fluid which pervades the 
nerves ; especially since these effects are chiefly ex- 
perienced in places liable to great vicissitudes of heat 
and cold ; since perspiration always bespeaks a con- 
traction of the nerves, and febrile paroxysms usually 
terminate in perspiration. My opinion will acquire 
new strength, and we shall thus be supplied with a 
plain and satisfactory theory of contagion, when ^ve 
recollect that the lungs and nostrils bring a great 
body of nerves into contact with the external respira- 
ble air, and that internal medicines are much less be- 
neficial in those cases than a change of residence, 
like that from the coast of Corsica to Vitzavona and 
Vivario. 



4. OF THE YELLOW FEVER. 

The yellow fever prevails more and more in the 
United States*, and its importance will justify me in 
discussing it at some length. Having received a 
medical education in early life, I have been the more 
qualified to reason with physicians upon this disorder, 

* The increase of yellow fever is questionable.— Trans. 



238 

and to compare the facts that relate to it, though I 
hope I have done this with a diffidence proportioned 
to my imperfect knowledge of this science. Without 
some such smattering, I should not have meddled 
with this subject, for it is easier to discuss the topics 
of the mathematical sciences without any direct know- 
ledge of them, since their principles are determinate 
and precise, than of medicine, so irregular and com- 
plex, so liable to the varying influence of circum- 
stances, and which requires so much perseverance, 
industry, and sagacity. 

The silly and dogmatic part of mankind are con- 
stantly exclaiming, that all is chance and guess-work 
in medicine, while they, at the same time, acknow- 
ledge themselves profoundly ignorant of the subject, 
and whenever the slightest ailment betides them, 
they are eager to call in some neighbouring Galen, 
or, if none be at hand, they implicitly trust to the 
skill of some old woman, whom experience has made 
a physician, or some empiric, in whom impudence 
or plausibility supply the place of experience. But 
this is a digression, from which it is time to return. i|l 

This disease owes its name to the deep lemon co- 
lour, which, in the dissolution of the humours, first 
shows itself in the eye, and afterwards spi^eads itself 
all over the body. The French call it the Siam fever 
or disease, either because it is supposed to have ori- 
ginally come from Siam, or because the hue of the 
patient resembles the complexion of the Siamese. 



m 



239 

The Spaniards term it the black vomit, from one of 
its most usual and most dreadful symptoms. Its or- 
dinary history is this : 

Some days preceding the attack, there is a general 
languor and lassitude, dull pains, drowsiness, and 
sometimes stupor. These are followed by intense 
head-ache in the brows, by acute pain in the back, 
arms, and legs, and alternate heat and cold. The 
skin is dry, parched, and has frequently spots, that 
are at first reddish, and then violet coloured. The 
eyes are dead, ghastly, and blood-shottcn. Respira- 
tion is difficult, accompanied with frequent sighs, and 
the air from the lungs is burning hot. The pulse 
varies with the constitution of the patient, and accord- 
ing to other circumstances ; in general it is hard, 
quick, and irregular, but the danger is greatest when 
it resembles the natural or ordinary state. Fainting 
and deafness, at the commencement of the malady, 
■ are very formidable symptoms. A tormenting thirst, 
iwith an inflamed tongue, which afterwards becomes 
black and furred, and at length fetid, are all signs of 
this disease. The sick complain of burning heat in 
;the stomach. The vomitings from slimy change to 
jthe most corrosive acid, sometimes unaccompanied 
with bile, but oftener attended with that fluid, which 
is of a yellowish green colour, and end in a blackish 
.matter, like dregs of ink, or coffee grounds, with a 
smell of rotten eggs, and so acrid that the throat is 
scalded by it. Sometimes constipation takes place^ 
and sometimes a blackish diarrhoea. 



240 

The disease has now passed dirough the inflamma- 
tory stage, and the fluids all tend to dissolution. The 
fever visibly abates : but this arises from the rapid 
decline of the vital energy ; the pulse becomes weak 
and tremulous ; the victim is restless, and sometimes 
delirious : Dire is the tossing ; deep the groans. Life 
gradually sinks under the continued and excessive 
vomiting and stools : and the most fearful presage is 
an inclination to lie on the back, draw up the knees, 
and slide down to the foot of the bed. The eyes and 
the whole body become yellow, and the dissolution of 
the fluids is complete. If the lancet has been previ- 
ously used, the orifice bleeds afresh. The solids are 
now attacked by spacelus and gangrene, and death 
hastens to close the scene. 

This disease has been long known in the hot and 
damp regions of South America, and the West Indian 
isles. Cases have always been common at Cartha- 
gena, Porto Bello, and Vera Cruz, upon the conti- 
nent ; and in the isles of Jamaica, St. Lucia, St. 
Domingo, and Martinique. Louisiana, and the 
southern coasts of the United States, where heat and 
moisture combine their pestilential influence, were 
never strangers to it. New Orleans, Pensacola, Sa- 
vannah, Charleston, and Norfolk were seldom free 
from it for five years together. The Potowmack ap- 
pears to have been its boundary, for in the earlier 
part of the last century there are only two periods 
mentioned, 1740 and 1762, in which it appeared 
north of that river, the first time at New York, and 



241 

the second time at Philadelphia* ; but since the year 
1790 its visits have been so frequent, that it may be 
now considered as congenial to the northern as well 
as to the southern states. Some scattered cases oc- 
curred at New York in 1790. It prevailed next 
year with more steadiness ; and traces were observed 
of it in 1792. In 1793 it appeared at Philadelphia 
as a pestilence, and it re-appeared, though slightly, 
in the two following years. It raged at New York 
in 1794 and 1796, and at Philadelphia in 1797; 
while, at the same time, it ravaged Baltimore, Nor- 
folk, Charleston, and Newburyport. Some tokens of 
it were perceived at Sheffield and Boston. Other 
instances are also mentioned ; one at Harrisburg, in 
1793, another at Baltimore, and a third at Oneida, in 
Genessee : to which may be added, several cases in 
the Miami of Lake Erie. In 1798 it raged with 
greater malignity than ever at New York and Phila- 
delphia. 

The American physicians, this disease being new 
to them, had to invent a cure. Unfortunately, most of 
them imagined they had found the remedy in the doc- 
trines of Brown, who was extremely popular among 
the faculty of the United States. The simplicity of 
this system, which explains every thing by two states 
of direct and indirect debility, and the subtraction 
or addition of stimuli, direct and indirect, captivated 

* It raged at the beginning of the century, at Philadelphia.-— 
Trans. 

2 H 



242 

the more, because it was dogmatical, and superseded 
the tedious aids of observation and experience. Hence 
the ardent fancy of youth, and the indolent temper of 
all ages, embraced it with eagerness. Reasoning 
from these principles, ihey have constantly adminis- 
t<"red tonics at the beginning of the fever, deeming it 
necessary to raise the languid powers, when the true 
object should have been to slacken and depress the 
overstraincrl fibres. They likewise made use of the 
most drastic pursratives, with a view to expel the 
morbid humours, before these humours were duly 
and sufficiently concocted and matured. 

This treatment particularly prevailed at Philadel- 
phia, in the fatal year of 1793, It was there the 
fashion to give t\venty or twenty-five grains of jalap, 
ten or fifteen of calomel, or even gamboge, and all 
these in repeated doses. For drink they prescribed 
camomile, mint, or cinnamon tea, and Madeira wine, 
sometimes to the amount of a bottle a day. Brandy 
is well known to form an ingredient of the purest 
Madeira. Besides, in the midst of summer, with the 
thermometer at 87 degrees, the sick were kept in 
close chambers, they lay on feather beds, with two 
or three blankets above them, and sometimes even 
with a fire in their rooms : all this for the purpose of 
forcing perspiration, which the inflammatory condi- 
tion of the system pertinaciously refused. 

Of this treatment the obvious consequences took 
place in a vast and rapid mortality : not two out of 
fifty of the sick recovered. They all showed symp- 



243 

toms of gangrenous suffocation, naturally flowing 
from a cherishec^ inflammation. Terror overpowered 
every mind ; the malady was regarded as pestilential, 
and all possibility of recovery from its attacks as 
hopeless. Some physicians, whose influence was 
considerable, sanctioned this opinion by their pubii- 
cations. The sick were deserted by dicir nearest 
relatives, and the desolate houses were fuli of noisome 
effluvia from the dead they contained. The govern- 
ment, at length, interposed for the removal and in- 
terment of the dead, and for conveying the sick 
to an hospital. Houses were marked with chalk, as 
in a time of proscription, and the terrified inhabitants 
fled for safety to the neighbouring villages, or en- 
camped in the open fields, as if tneir city were in 
possession of an enemy. 

At this sad moment, change conducted hither, from 
the conflagrations of St. Domingo, Dr. Deveze, a 
French surgeon, of considerable eminence in that 
island. He happened to be called to a patient, and 
employing the remedies usual in the French islands, 
his great success soon attracted the notice of govern- 
ment, and he was placed at the head of the hospital 
at Bush-hill. His account of his method of treating 
the disease, published the ensuing year, is equally 
creditable to his skill and humanity, as it propagated 
new views upon the subject throughout the country. 
By this treatise it appears, that he divides the disor- 
der into three stages, distinct from each other, though 



244 

they sometimes succeed each other so rapidly, that 
there is hardly time to note the progress. 

The first is a state of extreme inflammation, com- 
bined with tension of the brain and spasms of the 
nerves, and requiring not tonics, but laxatives and 
sedatives. 

The second is a state in which the fluids are dis- 
solved, by the previous preternatural heat. These 
fluids are to be evacuated as soon as possible, since 
they are become noxious to the body that contains 
them ; and here Art should stand by, watchful to aid 
and promote the crisis, but rather following Nature 
than stepping before her. 

The third period is that of re-composition and con- 
valescence, in which Art has only to prescribe the 
regimen, and inculcate caution and forbearance on the 
patient's appetites. 

Agreeably to these notions, he began by drawing 
away some blood, if the patient were plethoric. He 
ordered diluents, acidulous aromatic drinks, and 
found great benefits to flow from liquids impregnated 
with carbonic acid. He adapted the drink to the 
patient's stomach, and took care to guard his imagi- 
nation against the chimera of contagion, the reality 
of which he always persisted in denying. He libe- 
rally admitted fresh air, and took no pains to provoke 
sweating, which he thinks is rarely employed by 
Nature as the means of determining a crisis. 

When he had, by these means, abated the fever, 
he proceeded, in the second stage of the disease, to 



245 

watch the approachhig crisis, and to mark the form 
or organ to which it showed a determination. These 
efforts most commonly produced extensive suppura- 
tions, which he aided, by externally applying vesica- 
tories and cataplasms, by the internal use of aromatic 
beverages, and even by weak wines, mixed with su- 
gar and water ; by gentle purgatives, and, lastly, by 
the bark. Opium, in such high credit with the phy- 
sicians of the country, he considered as hurtful and 
improper. 

We may naturally suppose, that a solitary stranger 
could not fail to meet with many obstacles ; but 
truth and reason always make their way sure at last. 
The sick naturally preferred "the man who performed 
the most cures, and his practice was finally adopted 
by many of the faculty. 

Whether the change be owing to this excellent and 
seasonable publicatiou, or to the natural progress 
of observation and experience, it is certain, that fa- 
vourable changes began to take place, in the treat- 
ment of this disease, from this period. In 1794, 
several physicians of New^ York made use, as a pur- 
gative, of Glauber's and other salts, in conjunction 
with diluents. Madeira wine and other tonics 
were no longer lavishly used. They used the lancet 
with great caution. The warm bath and fomenta- 
tions with vinegar were employed as sudorifics, and 
these were sometimes beneficial. From this moment 
a salutary schism broke out in the colleges ; old ha- 



246 

bits M^ere shaken, and new paths chalked out for the 
spirit of curiosity and witerprise. 

This schism has been particularly violent on the 
question of the origin of this disease. Some main- 
tain that it is always imported from abroad, especially 
from the West Indies ; and rely much, for support 
to this opinion, on the unfrequency of this disease, 
anterior to the peace of 1783. Its subsequent preva- 
lence they impute to the Increased commercial inter- 
course with the West Indies and Spanish America, 
and even attempt to trace its admission to particular 
vessels, by which a contagious matter, not less viru- 
lent than that of the plague, has been indisputably 
imported. 

The other party affirm, on the contrary, that this 
disease is capable of being generated within the 
country, by a concurrence of certain incidents of time 
and place. So far from admitting the historical argu- 
ments of their opponents, derived from the case of 
particular vessels, they clearly prove, that the ships 
accused were first infected with the malady after their 
arrival at New York or Philadelphia, and in conse- 
quence of lying near the places where the disease was 
peculiarly malignant. They even prove that those 
of the crew who were first seized were such as had 
greatest and earliest communication with the shore*. 

* Thus the people of Philadelpliiii generally believed, for a 
time, that their pestilence of 1793 came from Grenada to them, 
but originally from Bulam, in Africa, in the ship Hankey. A 
physician of that island, Dr. Chisholm, supported the tale of im- 



247 * 

From an extensive and judicious view of all cir- 
cumstances, these physicians have deduced and ascer- 
tained the following points in the history of this 
disease : 

1. That it Is to be found In large populous cities, 
more than in small towns, villages, or country places. 

2. That in such cities, as New York, Philadelphia, 
Baltimore, it prefers those parts that are low, and 
abounding in filth or stagnant water ; streets narrow 
and close, unpaved and dirty ; and especially the 
wharves, and the nooks and alleys adjacent, which 
are covered with filth, and which is left dry and ex- 
posed to the sun by the ebbing of the tide. Mr. R. 
Bayley has calculated, that at least twenty-four loads 
of every kind of filth, including even the carcases of 
dogs, cats, and horses, were thrown, in one year, into 
the dock between Wliitehall and the Cofiee-house 
slip. Hence it was, that, in July, it produced so 
powerful a stench, especially in the evening, as to 
excite in those who resided in the neighbourhood 
nausea and vomiting. 

portation by the Hankey, in a pamphlet. Three years after, 
Noah Webster and Dr. E. H. Smith, of New York, published a 
journal of the voyage of the Hankey, drawn up by a respectable 
eye-witness, which contains so candid and convincing a statement, 
that no reader can hesitate to believe that Dr. Chisholm was com- 
pletely deceived. Dr. Bayley, likewise, in a judicious report to 
the governor of New York, proves that the stories current res- 
pecting the importation of the fever in the Antoinette and Patty 
were entirely groundless. See Medical Repository, vol. I, pa§;cs 
459 and 121. 



248 

3. That it prevails only in July, August, and Sep- 
tember, during which the great heats of the climate, 
which rise customarily to 86 or 88 degrees, produce 
a fermentation in these heaps of animal and vegetable 
matter, and extract from them gazeous fluids, equally 
noisome to the senses and hurtful to health. The epi- 
demic is encreased by damp weather, by south-east 
and even by north-east winds, and is not abated by the 
plentiful rains of the south-west. That the disease 
was most apt to prevail when the sum.mer was dry est 
and most calm, probably because in such state of the 
air the noxious vapours act more powerfully on the 
lungs, and through that medium on the whole system. 

It appears, lastly, that those most liable to this 
disease are the poor, squalid inhabitants of low, wet, 
and neglected suburbs ; workmen most exposed to 
the heat of fires, as smiths ; and those addicted to 
spirituous liquors, a fit of drunkneness being not un- 
frequently succeeded by yellow fever ; persons of 
sanguine, robust habits, adults, strangers from nor- 
thern climates, blacks^ and men enfeebled by vice and 
luxury : that, on the contrary, those are most exempt 
from it who are spare and temperate, cleanly in their 
habits, in easy circumstances, residing in clean, airy 
streets, and strangers from hot climates. 

They have likewise proved, that even in the West 
Indies, Grenada, Martinique, St. Domingo, and Ja- 
maica, which have sometimes been deemed the pecu- 
liar seats of the disorder, the same circumstances 
were necessary to concur to produce the evil ; that 



249 

both in seasons, places, and constitutions, a direct 
analogy prevailed among the fevers of different coun- 
tries ; that islands like St. Kitts, St. Vincents, To- 
bago and Barbadoes, which are lofty and dry, are ex- 
tremely healthy ; whereas in Grenada it only appeared 
at St. Georges, and in Martinique at Fort Royal, in 
places near the shore, and in the neighbourhood of 
marshes, where vessels were crowded together in a 
very dry season ; and finally, that if the disease came 
from abroad, into New York and Philadelphia, it 
would have been regularly imported from Norfolk 
and Charleston, with which they have always an 
extensive and unguarded intercourse, and where the 
combination of the above unfavourable circumstances 
make it almost annually endemic*. 

* The argument drawn from the rai'e appearance of the fever 
in former times operates both ways, for as there is no essential or 
apparent difference in the internal condition of New York and 
Philadelphia, between former times and the present ; or, if there 
be any difference, it is in favour of the wholesomeness of their 
present condition ; so there is no material difference, or that dif- 
ference is in our favour, between the commercial intercourse of 
these cities with the tropical islands and cities now and formerly. 
Why, exclaims one, did not the equal or greater filth and impurity 
of our towns generate the fever before 1790 ? and why, may ano- 
ther exclaim, did not our intercourse with the West Indies import 
that disease sooner? an intercourse more incautious and un- 
guarded than at present. The rage for explaining every thing, 
and the dogmatic spirit that imagines the causes of every thing 
within our reach, is as prevalent now as in the darkest ages of the 
world.— Trans. 

2 I 



250 

These conclusions are established in numerous 
tracts, publisiicd from 1794 to 1798, the year in 
which I left the country for Europe*. 

After reading these works attentively, we cannot 
fail to be struck with the harmony and conformity 
between the prevalence of the yellow fever and the 
circumstances just mentioned. We every where 
find the disease appearing and advancing in obedi- 
ence to these circumstances, and its virulence always 
bearing an exact proportion to the heat of the at- 
mosphere, combined with dryness, or with temporary 
moisture ; to the extent and vicinity of pools and 
bogs, and especially to the quantity of animal or ve- 
getable matter, in a state of putrid fermentation. If 
there be heat, without marshes or animal putrefac- 
tion, fevers are generated of the infiymmatory kind, 
unattended with peculiar malignity ; if there be 
marshes without animal matters, the exhalations pro- 
duce putrid sore throat, cholera morbus, and dysen- 
teries ; if animal putrefaction be connected with, these 
circumstances, the nervous system appears to be 



* See the Report of the Physicians to the Governor of Pennsyl- 
vania; of R. Bayley to the Governor of New York; on the Yel- 
low Fever of New York, by V. Seaman; Dr. Rush's Enquiries 
and Observations ; Dr. G. Davidson on the Yellow Fever at 
Martinico, in 1^96 ; Origin of the Fever of Grenada in 1/93 and 
1794, by E. H. Smith; on the Bilious Malignant Fever, by S. 
Brown ; on the Fever and Dysentery of Sheffield, by Dr. Buel ; 
and the valuable Collection of Letters, on the Fevers of various 
places, published by Noah Webster. 



251 

afFected with a kind of poison. Fevers may be thus 
measured, as to their mahgnity, by the degrees of the 
thermometer, combined with the force of putrid ex- 
halations, so that, in the course of the same season, 
we may count up all their degrees, from mere synocha 
to the consummation of every malignant operation in 
the plague. Hence it is evident that every countrj'-, 
which contains and unites these enemies to life, may 
engender, in its own bosom, all these diseases. 

I imagined, very early, that the heat necessary to 
produce malignant fevers, in Syria and Egypt, was 
about 86 degrees ; and it was with no small satisfac- 
tion I afterwards found the same opinion, suggested 
by similar facts, in Dr. Davidson of Martinico, M'ho 
thinks that, beginning at this degree of 86, the malig- 
nant and contagious properties of fevers keep pace 
with the encrease of temperature, till they terminate 
in the plague. 

These notions on the origin and causes of the yel- 
low fever are now so prevalent in America, that a 
great majority of their physicians concur in believing 
it to originate within the country. The college of 
Philadelphia is the only learned body that continues 
to maintain its foreign origin ; and this opinion, 
which was the earliest, will never want numerous 
partisans, from the following powerful considerations : 

Because it is flattering to national vanity, and, we 
may add, timidit}-. 

Because it favours the schemes of land-jobbers, 
and removes the obstacle and discouragement to emi- 



252 

gration, raised by the opposite opinion. The case, 
indeed, is pretty much the same, if its importation be 
so very easy ; but this inference is not easily digested 
by the party, and many Americans are irritated by 
being placed in so irksome a dilemma. 

Because the physicians who most strenuously main- 
tain this opinion have their vanity engaged in the 
support of it, and are only made more positive by 
contradiction ; because they have prevailed upon the 
government to burthen commerce with heavy and 
vexatious restraints and impositions, and they would 
incur a great deal of odium, should they be brought 
to acknowledge the nullity and folly of these mea- 
sures. I am, however, by no means an enemy to 
the establishment of lazarettoes and health-offices ; 
I think them wise and useful, especially if the Ame- 
rican trade extend itself much in the Mediterranean 
and the Levant. 

Because the contagion and malignity which the 
doctrine of importation implies, affords an excuse to 
those whose patients seldom recover*. 

When I concur with those who believe in the do- 
mestic generation of the yellow fever, I am far from 

* Here Volney inserts a note too personal and frivolous to de- 
serve introduction. The vanity and dognaatism displayed in the 
above enumeration of motives is highly censurable. Volney, and 
all violent controversialists, have not minds large enough to see 
the real complexity and obsciu'ity of this question, or to admit 
the possibility of opposite opinions being adopted or defended with 
disinterested motives. — Trans. 



253 

questioning the motives of those who think differ- 
ently*^, but I regard this doctrine as dangerous and 
hazardous, inasmuch as it has urged the government 
to encroachments upon personal security and liberty, 
and renders men indifferent to those domestic and in- 
ternal measures and precautions, which are enjoined 
by the true nature of the malady. 

As to the question of contagion, I cannot entirely 
concur with either party. There are too many facts 
to allow us to believe in its universally contagious 
nature ; and if the source of the disease be found in 
moist and putrid exhalations, surely the effluvia from 
a diseased body must be efficacious in the same way. 
It appears accordingly, that at Philadelphia, in 1797, 
many families contracted the disease, on tluir return 
to town, in cold weather, by repossessing their houses, 
in which persons had died, without cleaning and 
purifying them. At Norfolk it was genenilly re- 
marked, that those who left the city were, on tlieir 
occasional returns to it, more liable to this disorder, 
than such as constantly remained in town : a case 
corresponding with that of strangers, especially from 
the north, who were always found, at New York and 
Philadelphia, to be particularly liable to infection. 

Speculative reasoners endeavour to account for this 
by saying, that strangers were made more susceptible 
of fever by the greater quantity of oxygene infused 
into their blood by the pure air of the country, or of 

* This is strange, after what ^as just before been said. — Tuaxs. 



254 

Europe. But this oxygenation is merely conjectural; 
and from all the notions we have formed of this fluid, 
its presence and abundance must be more conduci- 
to health than to sickness; and the opinion main- 
tained by these theorists, that oxygene abounds most 
in low situations, is directly contrary to the discove- 
ries of European chemists. The fluids which their 
experiments have disengaged from marshes and pu- 
trescent substances are carbone, hydrogen, and azote, 
and not oxygene. 

The two first of these gasses, when confined, are 
productive of remittent and intermittent fevers, and 
when compounded with the third, or azote, tend to 
generate malignant or putrid fevers. 

Future enquiries may unfold the nature of all these 
morbific fluids. At present, the best modes of des- 
troying their eflfects seem, to be : first, the use of 
diluents and refrigerants to abate inflammation, which 
is the first stage of the disease : perhaps a bath of 55 
or 66 degrees, employed at the first approach of the 
disease, and continued for many hours, might be 
useful. Adepts in medicine must be left to judge 
of tlie benefits of very cold baths, by which some 
American physicians have given relief: but all de- 
pends upon the moment of their application, since its 
effects in one stage of the disease would be widely 
different at another stage. The great point is to pre- 
vent inflammation from advancing till it decompose 
the fluids, for in such a case the disease must run 
through ail its stages. The first moments, therefore, 



255 

are precious, and in them blood may be taken, in 
small quantities, with benefit. A potent antidote is 
abstinence, with aqueous drinks, begun as soon as 
lassitude is perceived, with loss of appetite : this ab- 
stinence must be persisted in till hunger naturally 
returns, and both mind and body are restored to their 
usual activity*. 

With respect to the general preservatives from this 
epidemic, they must be adopted by the general go- 
vernment, and must consist : 

1. In regulating the commercial intercourse of the 
country, with a strict regard to foreign diseases. 
Ships from the Mediterranean must be carefully at- 
tended to. 

2. In restraining the conduct of individuals, in the 
exercise of the right of property. This right, at pre- 
sent, is much abused, by filling up pits and low places 
ivith offensive and filthy matters. The Americans 
Doast, with little reason, of their cleanliness, for the 
^uays of New York and Philadelphia, and some of 
heir suburbs, surpass, in public and private nasti- 
less, any thing I ever saw in Turkey, where the at- 
nosphere is salubriously dryf. 

3. Measures should be taken for paving the streets, 
anes, and alleys of cities. It has long been observed 

* See an excellent treatise on the Effect of Abstinence, on the 
ipproach of Acute Diseases, by E. Millar, M. D. Ne\y York 
ledical Repository, vol. I. 

t If this declaration be true, the police of these cities ought to 
•erable. — Trans. 



256 

in Europe, that all great epidemics have disappeared 
in London, Paris, Lyons, and other populous cities, 
since the public ways have been generally paved. 

4. All stagnant water, and every putrescent mat- 
ter, should be carefully prevented or removed. Among 
the rest, burying-grounds should be removed from 
the hearts of cities. Philadelphia has four vast ceme- 
teries, in the finest and most populous quarters of 
the city, of the smell of which I was, in summer, 
quite sensible, but it has not one walk planted with 
trees. 

5. The privies should be w\^lled and paved. In 
their present state, their contents escape into the 
wells, by filtration through a sandy stratum. On 
the melting of the snow, and in summer droughts, 
the water rises to the same level in both, for both are 
equally ivithout walls. This contamination of the 
well water is so evident, that, in Front street, water 
kept in decanters for three days, in the month of 
May, became thick, and acquired a noisome smell*. 

Lastly, it is an important duty of the government 
to enlighten their people as to the consequences of 

* Since Volney's visit great alterations have taken place. The 
introduction of the Italian poplar has turned some of the hottest 
and most open streets inCo shady avenues, and pure Schuylkill 
water is diffused thi-oughout the whole city. The use of this 
wholesome element has made the noxious properties of the well 
water particularly conspicuous. The latter now produces nausea 
in those who formerly drank it without sensible inconvenience. 
The same improvements have taken place at New York and 
Wilmington — Trans. 



257 

that pernicious diet, which they have borrowed from 
their ancestors, the Germans and English. We may 
venture to affirm, that if a premium were offered for 
a regimen most destructive to the teeth, the stomach, 
and the health in general, none could be devised more 
efficacious for these ends than that in use among tliis 
people. 

At breakfast they deluge the stomach with a pint 
of hot water, slightly impregnated v/ith tea, or slightly 
tinctured, or rather coloured, with coffee ; and they 
swallow, almost without m.astication, hot bread, half 
baked, soaked in melted butter, with the grossest 
cheese, and salt or hung beef, pickled pork or fish, 
all which can with difficulty be dissolved. 

At dinner they devour boiled pastes, called, ab- 
surdly, puddings, garnished with the most luscious 
sauces. Their turnips and other vegetables are 
floated in lard or butter. Their pastry is nothing but 
a greasy paste, imperfectly baked. To digest these 
various substances, they take tea, immediately after 
dinner^ so strong that it is bitter to the taste, as well 
as utterly destructive of the nervous system. Supper 
presently follows, with salt meat and shell fish in its 
train. Thus passes the whole day, in heaping one 
indigestive mass upon another. To brace the ex- 
hausted stomach, wine, rum, gin, malt spirits, or 
beer, are used with dreadful prodigality. 

These modes of diet are not unsuitable to the Tar- 
tarian tribes, from whom the people of the west of 
Europe were originally descended, yet they employ 

2 K 



258 

none of these pernicious stimulants. Their wander- 
ing and equestrian life makes them capable of digest- 
ing any thing ; but when nations change their climate, 
or sink into the wealth, refinement, and ease of a sta- 
tionary people, the whole mass undergoes material 
alterations. The ploughmen of Germany or Eng- 
land may copy their hardy ancestors without much 
inconvenience ; but not so those that dwell in cities, 
and pass their time in a slothful or sedentary manner, 
and still less those who change the chills and damps 
of their native climate for a torrid region like Georgia 
or the Carolinas. Habit itself, though almost omni- 
potent, cannot reconcile this system to so repugnant 
a climate. Hence it is, that the English are the least 
able to contend with the evils of tropical climates, of 
any people of Europe, and their American descend- 
ants must abjure the example, or they will incur the 
same inconveniences. 

Regimen has so much influence on health, and is 
of such moment in the yellow fever, that this malady 
never appeared within the precincts of the Philadel- 
phia prison, a circumstance no doubt owing to the 
rigid temperance observed in this institution, by 
which the stomach is never overloaded, nor the fluids 
depraved, and to the exclusion of spirituous liquors, 
for drunkenness is a vice as prevalent in the United 
States as among the savages themselves. 

I am far from imagining that the manners of a 
nation, in these respects, can be easily or speedily 
chang-ed. I know too well the infatuation of man- 



259 

kind, and the obstinacy of general and long-estab- 
lished habits ; but I cannot help thinking-, that if half 
the pains were taken by governments to enlighten 
their subjects as are taken to mislead them, a refor- 
mation might be wrought, such as the contemners of 
mankind have no conception of at present. 

The ignorance and folly of mankind are cherished, 
instead of being combated, by their rulers ; and hence 
the inveteracy of popular ignorance and folly ; but if 
the present generation be unequal to the task of their 
own reformation, they might, at least, through ten- 
derness for their offspring, adopt a plan of education 
by which posterity might be rescued from the evils of 
which their parents have so much reason to complain*. 

The great and general cause of yellow fever, since 
the year 1790, I shall venture to affirm to be the sud- 
den increase in the population of the maritime cities, 
in consequence of the French war, and the insurrec- 
tions in the islands. The vast influx of floating pro- 

* In this case, the rulers are just as much depraved as the sub- 
jects, and we can have little hopes of the child, when the parent 
glories in his sottishness, and thinks the happiness and dignity of 
manhood connected with the quantity he drinks. The whole pur- 
pose of government is vulgarly supposed to consist in repelling ex- 
ternal enemies, and restraining the fraud or violence of individuals 
when immediately directed against the person or property of each 
other. The first end is effected by a revenue, to create or aug- 
ment which the introduction and diffusion of inflammatory liquors 
are studiously promoted. The health or morals of the people, so 
far as these arise from the regulation of the passions and discip- 
line of the manners, form no part of a politician's views. — Trans. 



260 

perty, and of fugitives, into their cities, occasioned 
the hasty erection of numerous buildings, on ground 
not properly prepared for them. Trade has diffused 
riches before unknown among the people, and the la- 
bourer, whose wages have increased to a dollar and a 
hnifand two dollars a day, and the farmer, whose flour 
has brought him twelve or fourteen dollars a barrel, 
have indulged themselves in new luxuries, among 
\vnich wine and brandy are the chief. Hence, at a 
time when the seeds of inflammation and putrescence 
had acquired new force, the bodies of men were par- 
ticularly open to their influence, by means of the care- 
lessness, uncleanliness, and excf'ss, which every 
where prevailed*. 

Such are the outlines of a picture of the soil and 

* In finding out this cause, Volney's usual sagacity seems to 
have deserted him. As to the encrease of buildings, in Philadel- 
phia ; where the pestilence has been most malignant, it has 
always begun and raged in the most ancient quarters. The 
fugitives from the islands have brought with them not wealth 
but poverty, have had no sensible effect upon population, and 
have rather imported s?fety than danger from the yellow fe- 
ver, from the influence of their example. Besides, the disease 
h.is raged in old and stationary towns, not visited, or very spar- 
ingly visited, by these fugitive?,. As to the influence of wealth, 
the disease has always made most havock among the most poor 
and the least thrifty. The prosperity of agriculture has had no 
such influence, because the farmer and miller are not harassed 
by the yellovv fever. Public and private cleanliness has wonder- 
fully increased since the first assaults of this disease, while the 
violence of these assaults has rather encreased than diminished. 
—Trans. 



261 

climate of the United States : a picture I have endea- 
voured to make as exact as its vast extent and variety 
would admit. I shall now leave the judgment of 
the reader to form his own notions of the compara- 
tive weight of evils and benefits belonging to a coun- 
try, whose political as well as geographical situation 
fits it for acting so magnificent a part on the stage of 
the world. I am the less disposed to guide or influ- 
ence the opinion of others in these points, because 
habit and prejudice are mighty, and particularly exer- 
cise their power over the judgments which we form of 
the comparative merits of countries. It has been no 
uncommon thing with me to hear opposite opinions 
advanced, in the same company, by travellers from 
different parts of Europe. The Dane and the Eng- 
lishman exclaim against the heat of the climate, 
which the Spaniard and Italian think temperate 
enough. The Pole and Provencal complain of its 
moisture, while the Dutchman is rather inclined to 
think it too dry : each one, in these instances, being 
secretly governed by comparisons between what he 
sees with what he has been used to in his own coun- 
try. Yet there is one thing in which they all agree, 
and that is in condemning the sudden, frequent, and 
violent changes in the temperature. 

The Americans resent these censures of their cli- 
mate almost as a personal offence. The motives of 
this partiality are obvious. In the fi.rst place, it na- 
turally flows from that sell^love or vanity, which is 
incident to nations as well as to individuals ; and se- 



262 

condly, from regard to dicir pecuniary interest, which 
governs the state as well as the private citizens, and 
which prompts them to employ all means of selling 
land, and inviting foreign purchasers and foreign ca- 
pitals*. 

With such motives, it would be hard to persuade 
them that their country is not the best in the world. 
Yet if the adventurer endeavours to inform himself 
among the people themselves, the southern people 
will terrify him from fixing in the north, by dwelling 
on their long and dreary winters, the hardships of ex- 
cessive cold, the expence and apparatus which a 
bleak air and churlish soil occasion in living or culti- 
vating the earth. 

The northern man, on the contrary, boasts much 
of his health, robustness, and activity, the gifts of 
labour, a sparing soil, and inclement skies ; and rails 
against the pestilential bogs of the southern states, 
their sultry and incessant heats, their tormenting in- 
sects, the slothful and luxurious habits, and the crazy 
constitutions of the people, their gambling, ch-unken- 
ness, and tyranny over their slaves : all produced by 
the very nature of their soil, and its luxuriant ferti-^ 

* This is absurd in both respects, for there is a large party in 
the state who abhor and discourage mmigration, and not one pri- 
vate man in a thousand has any personal interest in the coming 
of strangers. Volney has given an air of mystery and singula- 
rity to a trite and universal fact, and makes no allowance in this 
place for the foixe of habit, which lessens the evils of a climate to 
the native, and aggravates them to the stranger — Trans. 



263 

lity. The Carolinian will join with the Vermont 
man, however, in decrying the middle states, as pos- 
sessing all the evils, without any of the benefits of either 
of the extremes. At Philadelphia, I have heard a Ca- 
rolinian complain of heat, and a Canadian of cold, 
merely because both were improvident, and took not 
the suitable precautions against the weather. So, 
likewise, if the stranger sets on foot enquiries in a 
notoriously sickly district, every one will describe his 
own farm as free from the evil, and kindly traces it 
either to his neighbour's domain, or to some foreign 
country. The tiaith is, that every nation and every 
individual complains of his own country or district, 
and yet, at the same time, prefers it to all others, 
through the influence of vanity, interest, and, above 
all, of all-powerful habit. The Copt prefers his mud, 
the Arab his sands, the Tartar his wilderness of long 
grass, the Huron his canopy of boundless woods, the 
Hindoo his sunny plains, the Esquimaux and Sa- 
j moiede his bleak and naked shores : neither would 
change his country for another. Such is the magical 
i influence of habit, the force of whose spell we can 
! only know by stepping out of our own circle, and 
! bringing ourselves into collision with others. Habit 
j forms a sort of atmosphere around us, to whose pecu- 
liarities our senses are dead, till we go forth and breathe 
a different air. 

Those who have never stept out of their own cir- 
cle, and yet speculate on the habits of others, are like 
blind men discoursing about colours, and I think the 



2G4. 

best criterion of a rational mind, is to pronounce his 
judgment upon such points with diffidence and hesi- 
tation. I do not pretend to divest myself of my na- 
tive habits, or forget my peculiar constitution, when 
I venture to say, that the climate of Egypt, Syria, 
France, and all the borders of the Mediterranean, is 
far preferable, both as to salubrity and pleasantness, 
to that of the American states ; that Avere I obliged 
to select the most favourable spot in America as the 
place of my abode, my choice would fall upon the 
southern point of Rhode Island, or the south-west 
chain in Virginia, between the Roanoke and Rappa- 
hannock. In the western country, I should prefer to 
live, a hundred years hence, on the margin of Lake 
Erie, for then it will not as now be infested with fevers. 
At present, if my choice were guided by the reports of 
travellers, it would fix upon those highlands of Flo- 
rida and Georgia, which are to windward of the near- 
est marsh*. 

* A district viith a dry, gently undulating, and well cultivated 
surface, in the middle and eastern states, has certainly the strong- 
est physical claim to salubrity. As the greater part of New 
England, the inland of New Jersey, and the eastern part of Penn- 
sylvania answer to this description, they are entitled equally, and 
in a high degree, to this praise, and as long life, with as few 
diseases, are to be found in such districts as any where in France, 
Spain, or Italy. A northern climate, and a social and agricultu- 
ral state, similar to that of Norway and Scotland, is doubtless still 
more favourable to health and longevity.-— .Trans. 



SUPPLEMENT. 



No. I. 

On the Winds of JVorivaij and Sweden. 

The great inundations that took place in Sweden, 
in the summer of 1800, were without any rain suffi- 
cient to account for them. I have hence been led to 
suspect that they were occasioned by an unusual ac- 
cumulation of clouds on the bordering mountains, by 
means of long continued winds ; and, in order to 
ascertain the truth, I addressed myself to Mr. Bour- 
going, the French ambassador at Copenhagen, who 
is an eminent and zealous friend to useful knowledge, 
and requested him to procure for me answers to cer- 
tain questions which I sent him. He communicated 
my queries to several learned men, and among the 
rest to Messrs. Melanderhielm, Swanberg, Loevener, 
Schoenheuter, Webbe, Grove, and Buch, Their 
comments on these questions were politely commu- 
nicated to the minister, and by him to me, and have 

2 L 



266 

furnished me with a body of vahuiblc facts, which I 
afiervvards put upon paper, and transmitted to the 
ambassador, as a token of my gratitude for his friendly 
assistance. 

As these facts have some connection with the spe- 
culations contained in this work, I have thought pro- 
per to insert them here. In doing so, one of my views 
has been to draw the attention of meteorologists to 
the laws which govern the winds of the polar circle, 
and to point out the analogy or correspondence be- 
tween the north-west and north-east winds of Ame- 
rica with those of Russia and Sweden. 

From the various notes transmitted to me, and par- 
ticularly from the brief, but exact and methodical, 
statements of Mr. Schoenheuter, bishop of Drontheim, 
in Norway, the following facts are clearly made out : 

1. That Norway is intersected, from east to west, 
by a mountainous chain called the Dofrefeldt or Do- 
frine hills, which divides the country into two parts, 
northern and southern. 

2. That the height of this chain, one of the highest 
in Norway, is about 3000 feet. 

3. That the influence of this chain upon the mo- 
tions of the atmosphere is such, that these two parts 
have scarcely ever the same wind and weather at the 
same time. If there be rain at Aggerhus or Chris- 
tiansand, on one side, it is dry weather at Drontheim 
or Nordland, on the other. The same representation 
is made by Mr. Buch. 



267 

4. This distinction was particularly striking in the 
summer of 1800, when incessant rains deluged the 
province of Drontheim, north of the hills, so that the 
harvest was entirely ruined, while an excessive 
drought prevailed in the southern districts of Agger- 
hus and Berghen. In Drontheim, from the month 
of June to the 20th of August, the wind did not devi- 
ate one point from the north-west, for twenty days ; 
and the thermometer, fluctuating between 46 and 50 
degrees, never rose above 57. At Aggerhus and 
Berghen the wind was steadily south, south-east, or 
south-west, the mercury ranging between 63 and 72. 
All the rainy days scarcely amounted to seven. 
The observations made at Dronthiem and Chris- 
tiansand, compared together, afford twenty instances 
of rain at Drontheim, with the wind at north-west, 
while at Aggerhus it was fair and dry, with a south- 
east wind ; so that directly opposite winds blew, at 
these different places, at the same time. According 
to Mr. Schoenheuter, Jemteland, in Sweden, which is 
east of Drontheim, experienced the same rains. As 
to the prevailing wind he was not informed. 

He joins with Messrs. Webbe, Grove, and Buch 
in stating the prevailing wind on the coast of Norway 
to be west; that this wind is rainy, owing to the 
neighbouring ocean, while the north-east, south-east, 
and east are dr}?-. The north-west and south-west 
prevail north of the hills, while the west and east are 
rare. On the coast of Berghen and the valley of the 
Louken, the south-west and west, with rain, prevail. 



268 

In the valley of the Glomen and Gulph of Aggerhus, 
the reigning winds are the south-west, which is chiefly 
rainy, and the south-east, which is occasionally both 
wet and dry. 

At Stockholm, Mr. Swanberg and Mr. Melander- 
hielm inform me, that the west and south-west pre- 
vail, and are dry ; that the wet winds are the east, 
north-east, and, in summer, the south-east ; but that 
Smaland and Scania have weather similar to that of 
Aggerhus. In 1800, June and July were very wet at 
Stockholm ; but they add no table of the winds, 
which probably were easterly. At that time the 
north-west blew at Drontheim, the south or south- 
east at Aggerhus, and the east in the Gulph of Both- 
nia. Hence it appears that the Dofrine mountain 
was the point of meeting or encounter between three 
opposite winds. 

I shall not enter into a minute account of the at- 
mosphere at Stockholm, but shall content myself with 
observing, 

1. That the Swedish inundation could not proceed 
from melting snows, for these are all dissolved be- 
fore June and July. 

2. That the Dofrine hills, though not so compact 
as a wall of masonry, have undoubted influence on the 
currents of the air. Though mountains may exist in 
clusters, and want a direct junction, they may yet im- 
pede or thwart the airy streams, especially if their in- 
tervening vallies have different directions, as ledges 
of rocks, though detached and unseen in the beds of 
rivers, check and disturb the current. 



269 



No. II. 

On Flofida^ and a work entitled a Concise J\'utnral mid Moral Hiv- 
tory of East and JVest Florida^ by Bernard Romans, \2mo. jYew 
York, \776. 

BERNARD ROMANS was an enlightened 
physician and observer, who spent several years in 
Florida. He divides the country into two climates ; 
one of which he calls the northern, extending from, 
latitude 31° to 27o 40''; the southern extending to 
the end of the peninsula, in latitude 24° . This dis- 
tinction he chiefly founds upon the frequency of frosts 
within one line, and their rarity beyond it. He might 
have said, more accurately and distinctly, that water 
freezes as far south as 27° 40', but ceases to freeze in 
the rest of the peninsula. 

The air of the country is clear and pure. Fogs 
are unknown, except upon St. John's river, but the 
dews are heavy. Spring and autumn are dry sea- 
sons, but the temperature of the latter is very variable. 
Winter sets in with wet and tempestuous weather : 
February and March are dry and clear : from Sep- 
tember to June, inclusive, there cannot be a finer 
climate ; but July, August, and September are in- 
tensely hot, though the temperature is less variable 
than that of Carolina, and frost is much more rare, v 



270 

The noon-day sun is scorching at all seasons, and 
the cold never injures the orange, which flourishes 
here in the greatest perfection. St. Augustine is on 
the frontier of the two climates*. 

The eastern trade wind prevails on the Atlantic 
side of the peninsula. On the coast of the gulph, 
the Avest and nordi-west sea breezes diffuse an agree- 
able coolness every where in summer. All kinds of 
fruit flourish here, without being incommoded by ex- 
tremes of heat or cold. The rain is foretokened one 
or two days beforehand, by excessive dews, or by the 
total want of them. The winds fluctuate less than in 
the country further north. During the greater part 
of spring, throughout summer, and in the first months 
of autumn, the wind is chiefly north-east ; at the close 
of winter and the opening of spring, it is west and 
north-west. 

For twenty days before the autumnal equinox, and 
seventy or eighty after it, storms and hurricanes are 
to be expected in this quarter ; but our historian re- 
lates, that he never heard of any violent commotion 
at the vernal equinox. The dreadful hurricanes of 
1769 began on the 29th October, that of 1772 on the 
30th of August. It first blew east and south-east at 
Mobile ; further west its course was north-north-east. 
It did little damage at. Pensacola. This tempest 

! 

* A geographical error of Volney's, this town being in latitude! 
29° 45'. Romans expressly placed this line about two degrees 
southward of this town. — Trans. 



271 

swelled all the rivers to a great height and extent ; 
but the most remarkable circumstance attending it 
was the mulberry-trees putting out a second crop of 
blossoms and fruit. 

The south and south-west winds occasion very- 
thick and unvv^holesome fogs. They also breathe 
that suffocating air, so much complained of in July ^ 
^ and August. The south-east and north-east winds, 
on the contrary, are cool ; they moisten the earth, and 
- fertilize the very sand with frequent showers. The 
' winds between east and north are sprightly and cool. 
i Between north and north-west they are almost cold. 
J The mercury ranges between 84 and 88 degrees in the 
^ shade, where there is ample ventilation. In July and 
■ August, in the shade, it reaches 94. In the sunshine 
fit mounts to 114. It never sinks below 30. The 
I weather, from October to June, inclusive, is inex- 
pressibly delightful. The eastern side of the penin- 
isula is more sultry than the west, or than the nor- 
thern district, the ^hore of which is obnoxious to the 
^keen blasts, of winter. 

The extremity of Florida, on the western side, is 
>very liable to storms and whirlwinds, from May to 
'August. They rise suddenl}- from the south-west and 
■south-south-west, and are transient. 

Dr. Mackenzie has said much of the effect of the air 
in producing mould, rust, &c. but though this is ma- 
nifest at St. Augustine, yet there is not a healthier 
-place than this in this quarter. The inhabitants en- 
joy sound health, and reach great longevity, and in- 



272 

valids resort hither from Cuba, as to another Mont- 
pellier. 

The northern district, v.hich is formed by the con- 
tinental part of Florida, resembles the southern part 
of the peninsula, but its customary winds are some- 
what colder. The epidemic of Mobile, in 1760, 
arose entirely from the intemperance of the soldiers. 
Even physicians advise the settlers to a moderate use 
of liquor, but, unluckily, they are sure to overleap 
the prescribed bounds, and to run into excess. 

The great evil of the American climate is not the 
degree of temperature, either high or low, nor the 
drought, nor the wet, but it is the violent and sud- 
den transition from one state to its opposite. So 
great are these changes, that they sometimes amount 
to 30 degrees in twelve hours, and this evil is much 
greater in the north than the south. 

The soil of Florida is generally a bed of white 
clay, with a stratum above it of white sand. The 
coast is naked and bare, but the inland is a forest of 
firs. 

Bernard Romans agrees with me in his notions of 
the savages. He describes them as a sottish, filthy, 
idle, pilfering and haughty race ; vain, irritable, vin- 
dictive, and ferocious. The Chickasaws he singles out 
as the worst of them all, and the Chactaws are, it 
seems, a little better. They are honest, have some 
notions of personal property, and are more industrious 
than the rest. They are hospitable to excess ; but 
are improvident, selling their all to the pedlar, and 



273 

hazarding their all in gambling. Suicide and sodomy 
are crimes by no means rare among every tribe. 

In 1771, the Chickasaws could muster 250 war- 
riors, the Chactaws 2600, and the confederate Creeks 
3500 ; which together make up no despicable force 
of upwards of 6000 men*. 

On the soil and produce of the country, our author 
is very full and satisfactory. He divides the land 
into six different kinds : the pine land, hammock 
land, savannahs, swamps, marshes, and bay, or cy- 
press, galls. 

" First, the pine land, commonly called pine bar- 
ren, which makes up the largest body by far, the 
peninsula being scarce any thing else ; but about a 
hundred miles towards the north-west from St. Au- 
gustine, and about two hundred from the sea in West 
Florida, carry us entirely out of it. This land con- 
sists of a grey or white sand, and in many places of 
a red or yellow gravel. It produces a great variety 
of shrubs or plants. The principal produce from, 
whence it derives its name is the pinus fol'iis hmgissi- 
mis ex una theca teniis, or yellow pine and pitch pine- 
tree, which I take to be a variety of the same species, 
both excellent and good timber. 

* In the following pages, the translator has extended a little the 
quotations of Volney, as B. Romans' information on the soil and 
diseases of those provinces is very curious and authentic, and, at 
the same time, his book is out of print, and extremely rare. — 
Tkans. 

2 M 



274 

*' Also the cbamoerops frondibus palmatis plicatis 
stipitibus serratisy of whose fruit all animals are very 
fond. 

*' It is on this kind of land that immense stocks of 
cattle are maintained, although the most natural grass 
on this soil is of a very harsh nature, and the cattle 
not at all fond of it. It is known by the name of 
wire grass, and they only eat it while young. For 
the procuring it young, or renewing this kind of pas- 
ture, the woods are frequently fired, and at different 
seasons, in order to have a succession of young grass, 
but the savannahs that are interspersed in this kind 
of land furnish a more plentiful and more proper food 
for the cattle. 

" Some high pine hills are so covered with two or 
three varieties of the oak, as to make an underwood 
to the lofty pines ; and a species of dwarf chesnut is 
often found here ; another species, of a larger growth, 
is also found in the lower parts, particularly in the 
edges of the bay or cypress galls. 

" This barren and unfavourable soil, in a wet sea- 
son, bears many things far beyond expectation, and is 
very useful for the cultivation of peach and mulberry 
orchards. This land might also be rendered useful 
for many other purposes ; but either the people do 
not chuse to go out of the old beaten track, or con- 
tent themselves with looking elsewhere for new land, 
improveable with less cost. The method of melior- 
ating it is certainly obvious to the meanest capacity, 
as it every where, at a greater or less depth, covers 



275 

a stiff marly kind of clay, which I am certain, \vsis it 
properly mixed with the land, would render it fertile ; 
and this might be done with little expence, the clay 
lying, in some places, within half a foot or a foot of 
the surface : in most places it is found at the depth 
of three, four, or five feet, consequently not very hard 
to come at. In East Florida, in the southern parts, 
this kind of land is very rocky, but especially from 
the latitude 25° 50', soutliward to the point, where it 
is a solid rock, of a kind of lime stone covered with 
innumerable small, loose, and sharp stones, every 
where. 

" In West Florida the pine land is also frequently 
found rocky, with an iron stone, especially neai* where 
the pines are found growing in a gravelly tract, which 
is frequently the case here. 

" The hammock land, so called from its appearing 
in tufts among the lofty pines : some small spots of 
this kind, if seen at a distance, have a very romantic 
appearance. The large parcels of it often divide 
swamps, creeks, or rivers from the pine land ; this is 
indeed its most common situation. The whole of the 
uplands, remote from the sea in the northern parts, 
is this kind of land : its soil is various, in some places 
a sand of divers colours, and in East Florida often a 
white sand ; but the true hammock soil is a mi^tture 
of clay and a blackish sand, and in some spots a kind 
of ochre. In East Florida some of this is also some- 
times found rocky ; on every kind of this land lies a 
stratum of black mould, made by the decayed leaves, 



276 

&c. of the wood and other plants growing upon it. 
The salts contained in this stratum render it very 
fruitful, and, when cleared, this is the best, nay, the 
only lit land, for the production of indigo, potatoes, 
and pulse : the first crops, by means of the manure 
above-mentioned, generally are very plentiful ; but 
the salts being soon evaporated, if the soil over which 
it lay should prove to be sand, it is not better than 
pine land ; the other sort bears many years planting : 
its natural produce is so various in this climate, that 
the complete description of all would be more work 
than one man's life-time would be sufficient for. 

" The savannahs are in this country of two very 
different kinds : the one is to be found in the pine 
lands, and, notwithstanding the black appearance of 
the soil, they are as much a white sand as the higher 
lands round them. True it is that clay is very often 
much nearer to their surface than in the higher pine 
lands ; they are a kind of sinks or drains to those 
higher lands, and their low situation only prevents 
the growth of pines in them. In wet weather, the 
roads leading through them are almost impassable. 
On account of their producing some species of grass, 
of a better kind than the wire p:rass, they are very 
often styled meadows ; and I believe, if they could 
be improved by draining them, without taking away 
all their moisture, very useful grass might be raised 
in them ; but on draining them completely, they 
prove to be as arrant a sand as any in this countr}^. 
These savannahs often have spots in them more low 



277 

than common, and filled with water : they are over- 
grown with different species of the cratagns^ or haw- 
thorn, as also very often a species of shrub much 
resembling the laurus in appearance, but as I never 
had an opportunity of seeing it in blossom, I cannot 
describe it, so as to ascertain the genus it belongs to. 
In its fruit it is widely different from any oi the laurel 
kind, that have fallen under my inspection ; it is a 
bacca, with several cells, full of an agreeable acid, 
like the common lime from the West Indies ; it is of 
the size of a large pigeon's ^'g%^ but more oblong. 
We also find it on the low banks of rivers in Georgia, 
and know it by the name of the Ogeechee lime. 

" The other savannahs differ very widely from 
these, and are chiefly to be found in West Florida. 
They consist of a high ground, often with small gen- 
tle risings in them. Some are of a vast extent, and 
on the west of Mississippi, they are said to be many 
days journey over. The largest within my know- 
ledge is on the road from the Chactaw to the Chicka- 
saw nation, and is in length near forty miles over, 
from north to south, and from one end to the other a 
horizon, similar to that at sea, appears. There is 
generally a rivulet at one or other, or at each, end of 
the savannahs, and some come to the river banks : in 
one or two of them I have seen some very small re- 
mains of ancient huts, by which I judge they were 
formerly inhabited by Indians. The soil here is very 
fertile ; in some I have seen fossil shells in great 
numbers, in others flint, in others again some chalk 



278 

and marl. It is remarkable, that cattle are very fond 
of the grasses grouing here ; the Chickasaw old field, 
as it is termed, is a clear demonstration of this, for 
the cattle will come to it from any distance, even 
when the grass scarcely appears ; and in all the cir- 1 
cumjacent tract are abundance of both winter and 
summer canes to be found, on which they might more 
luxuriously feed. In these savannahs, if a well or 
pond is dug, the water has a very strong nitrous taste. 
I have seen some very curious plants in this kind of 
ground, but there was no time for my examining any 
of them, except a nondescript of the genus tageteSy 
of a fine crimson colour. I shall, in some measure, 
describe and give the figure of this plant. The only 
high growth I have seen in these savannahs are some 
willows and other aquatic plants, by the side of rivu- 
lets, in or near them : some of the smaller kind of 
oaks, and a few small junipers, are also to be seen in 
those places ; the fragaria, or strawberry, is very 
common in them. 

" Swamps are also found of two kinds, river and 
inland swamps. Those on the rivers are justly es- 
teemed the most valuable, and the more so if they are 
in the tide way, because then the river water may be at 
pleasure let on or kept out, with much less labour and 
expence than in the other kinds. These lands are 
the sources of riches in these provinces, because, 
where they lie between the sandy pine barrens, they 
produce that valuable staple rice, and on the Missis- 
sippi, where much of this river land is situated a 



279 

great deal higher than the common run of it in Carn- 
lina and other similar countries, this soil is the best 
adapted for corn and indigo yet known. Some of 
these grounds are clay, others sand, and others again 
partake of both ; when used for rice it matters not 
which of these soils they are made up of ; but, I be- 
lieve, were the sandy ones to be quite drained, they 
would prove barren enough. The use of water on rice 
is more to suppress the growth of ?ioxious weeds and 
grass, which would otherwise stifle the grain, than 
for promoting the growth of the rice itself ; for none 
of the grasses can stand the water, but rice does, as 
long as it is not totally immersed. Therefore it is, 
that after weeding, the planter, if he has it convenient, 
lets on water to about half the height of his grain. 
By swamps then, in general, is to be understood any 
low ground subject to inundations, distinguished from 
marshes in having a large growth of timber, and much 
underwood, canes, reeds, wythes, vines, briars, and 
such like, so matted together, that they arc, in a great 
measure, impenetrable to man or beast. The pro- 
duce of these swamps, if sandy, is more generally the 
cypress tree, which is here of three species : two of 
these grow in this kind of land ; the common sort 
grows to an enormous size, but none so large as v.hat 
are seen on or near the banks of the Mississippi ; the 
other kind, vulgarly miscalled white cedar, is in great 
quantities near Pensacola, particularly in the swamps 
of Chester river : this likewise grows to a tree, which 
may be ranked among those of the first magnitude. 



280 

" The back or inland swamps answer in situation 
to what are called the meadows or savannahs, among 
the pine lands : their soil being rich, occasions them 
to bear trees. The true back swamps, that are in 
wet seasons full of standing water, bear scarcely any 
other tree, than a variety of that species of nyssa, dis- 
tinguished by botanists by the name of nyssa foliis 
lat'is aciiminatis non dectatis fructu aleagni minore, pe- 
dimculis multijlore, vulgarly called bottle arsed tupelo. 
The continuance of water on this kind of ground is 
the reason why scarce any undergrowth is found here. 
There are swamps also called back swamps, tut they 
are either at the head of some stream, or have more 
or less water running through them ; these are gene- 
rally easy to drain. I would have confined my des- 
cription of back swamps to the first or standing ones, 
and ranked the last, which I think might properly be 
done, among the river swamps, but I was apprehen- 
sive that it might have displeased some person, who 
entertains the more established opinion. These last 
described often are found mere cypress swamps ; in 
that case they are almost impassable, by reason of 
the cypress spurs, even when dry, and for horses 
they are extremely dangerous, as they often get 
staked on those spurs. This vegetable monster I 
do not remember to have seen mentioned any where. 
When this kind of swamp is not overgrown with cy- 
press alone, its product is the same as that of the 
river swamps above-mentioned, and in that case the 



281 

soil is certainly good ; these last, when properly 
drained, are the best land for the cultivation of hemp. 
*' The marshes are next to be considered. They 
are of four kinds, two in the salt, and two in the fresh 
water. They are either soft or hard ; the soft marshes, 
consisting of a very wet clay or mud, are as yet of no 
use, without a very great expence to drain them ; the 
hard ones are made up of a kind of marly clay, which 
in dry seasons is almost burned up. True it is, they 
afford a pasture sufficient to keep any graminiverous 
animals in good order ; but their milk and flesh, 
in seasons when the cattle near the sea side can- 
not find any other food, and conseqeuntly feed on 
this alone, have so horrible a taste, that no stranger 
to the country can make use of them. Hard marshes, 
in general, are such whose soil has too much solidity 
for water to disunite its particles, by penetrating 
them; the soft marshes are those whose spungy nature 
allows the water easily to penetrate them. I have 
seen of both kinds on Turtle river, about twenty 
miles up, in which, at about eight or ten feet belovv 
the surface, there are numbers of cypress and other 
stumps remaining, but chiefly cypress, and many of 
*the fallen trees crossing each other : this is only to 
be seen at low water, and to the height above-named. 
These trees are- covered with a rich, nitrous, mutldy 
soil ; but I beg leave to expect, that better naturalists 
may explain this extraordinary appearance : I be* 

2 N 



282 

licve them ruins of ancient forests, on which the sea 
has encroached*. 

" The marshes on fresh water are in every respect 
similar to those on the salt, except that they are not 
impregnated Avith the saline particles, of which the 
first are very replete ; therefore the hard ones, with 
little trouble, are adapted to cultivation ; the soft 
ones cost a considerable deal more of expence, to 
render them fit to answer this purpose, but when so 
drained as to answer this end, they certainly are by 
no means inferior to any land in this country. In the 
lower part of these marshes grows a k'md of hitherto 
imdescribed grain, of which the western Indians make 
a great use for bread. I never could see it in blos- 
som, therefore cannot describe it. It is known by 
the name of 'ivild oats. 

" This kind of land produces rice very willingly, 
but, if sufficiently made dry, always proves the best 
for corn, indigo, and hemp. I have seen at Mr. 
Brewington's plantation, about three miles below Sa- 
vannah, in Georgia, very good corn and rice together, 
Avith the two kinds of melons, and cucumbers in 
great perfection, on this species of soil. 

" I shall next describe the bay and cypress galls. 
These intersect the pine lands, and are seldom of any 
breadth ; the bay galls are properly water courses, 

" * The whole appearance of this river seems lo indicate such 
an ancient and unrecorded hurricane, on this part of the coast. 



283 

covered with a spungy earth mixed with a kind of 
matted vegetable fibres. They are so very unstable 
as to shake for a great extent round a person, who, 
standing on some part thereof, moves himself slightly 
up and down ; they often prove fatal to cattle ; and 
sometimes I have been detained for above an hour at 
the narrowest passes of them, they being so danger- 
ous to cross, that frequently a horse plunged in, so as 
to leave only his head in sight. Their natural pro- 
duce is a stately tree, called loblolly bay*, and many 
different vines, briars, thorny withs, and on their 
edges a species of red or summer cane, which toge- 
ther combine to make this ground impenetrable, as 
if nature hud thus intended to prevent the destruction 
of cattle in these dismal bogs, which would be parti- 
cularly fatal to many of them in spring, when the 
early produce of grass and green leaves in these galls 
might entice them into this danger, was not such a 
natural obstacle in their way. As these have gene- 
rally vent, they are sometimes drained, and rice 
planted therein, which, for one or two years, thrives 
there tolerably ; but this ground is so replete with 
vitriolic principles, that the water standing in them is 
impregnated with acid, insomuch that Thave tasted 
it sour enough to have persuaded a person, unac- 
quainted with this circumstance, that it was an equal 
portion of vinegar and water mixed together, there- 
fore it requires to lie open at least one year before it 

" * Hylierium^ seu Gordoaia Lardaiithxis, 



284 

will bear any thing, and they generally, by lying open 
four or five years without any other draining, become 
quite dry, and might be advantageously used for pas- 
ture ground. 

" The cypress galls differ from these, in being a firm 
sandy soil, in having no vitriolic taste in the water, 
and very seldom vent. I never knew these made use 
of for tlie purpose c^ planting, and the cypress they 
produce is a dwarf kind, not fit for use, being very 
much twisted and often hollow. There is no under- 
growth here, but in dry seasons some tolerable grass. 
Through all the above species of land we find a distri- 
bution of very fine clay, fit for manufacturing. The 
finest I ever saw is at the village on Mobile Bay, 
where I have seen the inhabitants, in imitation of the 
savages, have several rough made vessels thereof. — 
There is also a great variety of nitrous and bitumi- 
nous earths, fossils, marls, boles, magnetic and other 
iron ore, lead, coal, chalk, slate, freestone, chrystals, 
nnd white topazes : these last in the beds of rivers. 
Ambergris is sometimes found ; one Stirrup a few 
years ago fotuid a piece of a very enormous size on one 
of the keys. There is also much of a natural pitch, or 
aspbalthiis^ vulgarly called mungiac^ thrown up by the 
sea. The uplands also afford a metallic substance, 
appearing like musket bullets, which, on bfeing 
thrown into the fire, go oft" in smoke with a very sul- 
phureous stench. 

" The water in this country is very various as to 
taste, quality,^and use. There are salt, brackish, ni- 



285 

trous, sulphureous, and good fresh springs in most 
parts of this country, as well as salt and fresh lakes, 
lagoons, and rivers. The rivers also vary in many 
respects, and so does the sea, as well in the colour 
and clearness of the water, as in its degree of saltness. 
The water of St. Mary's and Nassau, and all the 
brooks that run into them, is very good, wholesome, 
and well tasted. The colour in the rivers is dark, as 
in all the American rivers of the southern district. 
St. John's is a curiosity among rivers indeed ; this 
rises at a small distance from the lagoon called In- 
dian river, somevvhere in or near the latitude of 27 , 
perhaps out of the lake Mayacco, which I have rea- 
son to beHeve really exists, and is the head of the 
river St. Lucia, as I am told by a credible Spanish 
hunter, who had been carried there by way of this 
last river. From its origin it runs through wide 
extended plains and marshes, till near the latitude 
28°, where it approaches the lagoon much. It then 
continues its course with a considerable current 
northward, and glides through five great lakes, of 
which the last, called Lake George, is by much the 
most considerable. In this last lake is about eight 
feet water ; it is tv."enty miles long, and about eleven 
or twelve wide. All these lakes and the river in ge- 
neral is very pleasant. Endless orange groves are 
found here, and indeed on every part of the river.; 
below these the river grows wider, loses its current, 
and has in some places none, in others a retrogade 
one, when yet lower down it is again in its true di- 



286 

rection. The banks of this river are very poor land, 
and exhibit, in a number of places, sad monuments 
of the folly and extravag'int ideas of the first Euro- 
pean adventurers and schemers, and the villany of 
their managers. The tide does not affect this river 
very far up. In many places, high up this river, are 
found some extraordinary springs, which, at a small 
distance from the river, on both sides, rush or boil 
out of the earth, at once becoming navigable for 
boats, and from twenty-five to forty yards wide : their 
course is seldom half a mile before they meet the 
river. Their water is, contrary to that of the river, 
clear, so as to admit of seeing a small piece of money 
at the depth of ten feet or more ; they smell strong 
of sulphur, and whatever is thrown in them becomes 
soon encrusted with a white fungous matter; their 
taste is bituminous, very disagreeable, and they, in 
my opinion, cause the green cloudings we see on the 
surface of the water of this river, and make it putrid, 
and so unwholesome as experience has taught us it is. 
" I have no sufficient ground to decide upon an- 
other circumstance, which I am told, viz. that when 
rice is overflown with this river water, it kills it : 
above these springs the water of the river is good. 
This river is from one and a half to three miles wide, 
except at the house of Mr. Rolle, who has here made 
an odd attempt towards settling and making an estate 
in as complete a sandy desart as can be found. Just 
above this, it is full of islands, exhibiting every where 
a very romantic appearance. There is a fine piece of 



287 

water, called Dun's Lake ; this is about nine miles 
from the river, eastward from this place ; this empties 
itself by a stream into the river. Another, called the 
Doctor's Lake, is on the west side, about sixty miles 
from the mouth : we see a variety of aquatic plants 
floating thereon. 

" In my journey by land from the Bay of Tampe 
across the peninsula to St. Augustine, I crossed 
twenty-three miles from east to west of miserable 
barren sand hills : the grain of the sand is very small 
and ferrugineous. These hills rise a considerable 
height ; on them is some growth of very small pines, 
and a very humble kind of oak grows so thick, that 
with the addition of some wythes and other plants, 
to me utterly ufiknown, they render it absolutely im- 
penetrable. In this ridge, which, as far as I can 
learn, extends from north to south, between the rivers 
St. John and cklaw-waw^haw y for about a hundred 
and fifty miles, having no where any water in its whole 
extent ; and, I am told, that where we crossed it is its 
narrowest place ; my Indian guide had the precau- 
tion to carry water for ourselves and horses, which 
proved very serviceable, as it was a very hot day, no 
growth of trees to shade us, and such a burning sand 
for the sun to reflect on. I leave the reader to judge 
what we suffered, though it was but a short distance 
over ; both ourselves and beasts often experienced 
the necessity of carrying water. What must travel- 
ling over this place be in a hot day, where it is forty 
or more miles wide ? 



288 

" Before I leave St. Johu's-river, I must not for- 
get the river running from 'south to north, called 
Pablo. This originates at a small distance from St. 
Mark's or North River, and empties into St. John's, 
at a small distance from the mouth. The water of 
this river is good, so is the land on it ; and it is 
thought that a communication with St. Mark's or 
the North River might be effected without much dif- 
ficulty ; this would open an inland navigation by ca- 
noes or boats, all the way from Carolina to near the 
Mosketo. 

" The river St. Mary, although it is said to origi- 
nate in the Ehanphanahin swamp, has a current of 
fine, clear, and whole&ome water, supplied from the 
pine lands through which it flov.s, with many fine 
springs, runs, and rivulets of very clear water. Nas- 
sau has also the same blessings, but doth not spring 
far distant from the sea. On Amelia Island, near 
the sea, is a very good spring, which makes a fine 
stream for some miles, dividing the island almost into 
two ; but below the spring its water is not commend- 
able. On the beach between St. John's and St. 
Augustine, at or near a place called the Horseguards, 
there are three good springs running into the sea, 
and in e'Dery part where the beach is clear sand^ water 
is obtained by digging. About four miles north of 
St. Augustine, rises St. Sebastian's creek, being a 
good fresh spring ; it soon joins a creek in salt 
marshes, and at a small distance from town it becomes 
very large and deep. It empties into St. Anastasia'6 



289 

Sound, two miles south of St. Augustine, making a 
peninsula of this territory nearly in form of a ores- ^ 
cent. Three miles farther south is the mouth of the 
river St. Nicholas, not very considerable ; St. Cecilia 
in the same sound ; the North-west, south of the 
Matanca and Penon ; the Tomoke and Spruce creek, 
in the Musketo Lagoon, and in short every river and 
creek in the country, except those above-named, are 
excellent wholesome water. Thus much, I suppose, 
will suffice as to the nature and quality of the water. 
All the rivers and springs in West Florida are good." 

The author has given us the characteristic portraits 
of a Chactaw, Chickasaw, and Creek man, and, 
though coarsely executed, the physiognomy is well 
preserved. The whole book, indeed, is a valuable 
and interesting account of the manners of the Florida 
savages, and the face and products of their country. 
He treats with judgment on the diseases of the coun- 
try, and points out the errors and exaggerations of 
Dr. Lind. He does not deny the excessive damps 
of the climate of St. John's and St. Augustine, but 
he maintains that St. Augustine is very healthy, be- 
cause it has not the marshes of St. John's. 

Sudden and violent changes of temperature, with 
heavy dews, are frequent at St. John's, Nassau, Mo- 
bile, and Campbeltown ; but at Pensacola and the 
country east of it, at New Orleans and on the Mis- 
sissippi, they were not complained of. These incon- 
veniences, however, are much greater in Georgia, 
and greater still in Carolina. People guard against 

2 o 



290 

them by kindling an evening fire, and by putting on 
fiannel. Tiiere are no brackish swamps, except at 
St. John's, Vvhereas tliey arc common in Georgia and 
the Caroliiias, and the air is loaded with their mos- 
quitoes and noisome exhalations. 

Flies and mosquitoes abound only in the planta- 
tions of rice and indigo. As cultivation advances 
they retire. The shores of the Mississippi are in- 
fested with these venomous insects, to a degree 
scarcely credible, nor is there any living, but under 
the protection of mosquitoe nets*. 

Our author is correct in dissuading all adventurers 
from coming hither, who are luxurious and intem- 
perate, who are of a full habit or plethoric constitu- 
tion, unless they can resolve to submit to a thorough 
change of regimen. Fevers prevail in July, August, 
and September, and half of October, that is, imme- 
diately ensuing the heavy sultry rains. They are 
more obstinate in the low wet lands, where rice and 
indigo are cultivated. 

" Fevers are the first of the summer diseases. The 
ancients have ages ago made an observation, that the 
season of the reign of this terrible disorder was al- 
ways preceded by an atmosphere laden with great 
heats and much rain, for some time ; the modern 
winters seem to me to be generally of the same opi- 



* At night, and in the houses or woods, for half the year, this 
plague prevails, and the very negroes are obliged to screen them- 
selves behind a cui'tain or net. — Trans. 



291 

nion. This is exactly the case in all the southern 
provinces, for fevers begin to take place, in some 
districts more, in some less, about the latter end of 
July and in August, and continue throughout Septem- 
ber and part of October : just the season immediately 
succeeding our greatest rains and most violent heats. 
Here I will notice a remark* which I have read long 
ago, and I find it confirmed in all climates, " That 
the middle of the third month was observed to be the 
period of the greatest rage of epidemical disorders." 
Those districts which lie near to low rice fields, par- 
ticularly in back swamps, and to such indigo works, 
where the planter is obliged to make reservoirs of 
water, are most liable to these disorders, after and 
during the latter part of an excessive drought ; be- 
cause in those neighbourhoods the air is at such 
times most prodigiously laden with corrupt moist 
effluvia. For this same reason, cool rainy summers 
will make those places more healthy than dryer spots, 
because, during such a season, all the above-men- 
tioned noxious exhalations do not take place in so 
great a degree, and the air is kept cool by the fre- 
quency of the showers. However, such situations 
wilt never be so common in the Floridas as in Caro- 
lina or Georgia, the quantity of good, wholesome, 
fresh, running water being infinitely greater, and con- 



" * Enquiry concerning the Cause of the Pestilence, and the 
Diseases in Fleets and Armies, London, 1759. 



292 

seqiiently little necessity of making stagnating ponds 
or dams. 

" It must be allowed, that all fevers, however dis- 
similar in appearance, proceed from the same origin : 
Nature only works with more or less violence to rid 
herself of what is detrimental to her. 

*' The ephemera^ or day fever, occasioned by a 
mere increase of the velocity of the blood, by means 
of a fit of drunkenness or debauch, or originating 
from violent exercise during the heat of the day, is 
too frequently seen here ; but as it is seldom of a 
longer continuance than eighteen or twenty hours, it 
has not often dangerous consequences, and may be 
avoided by every person. J shall content myself with 
barely observing, that some cooling acidulated liquid 
aliments will soon abate its violence ; bleeding may 
likewise be of use to restrain its force. 

*^ The continual fever, or inflammatory fever, is 
sometimes though rarely experienced in this climate, 
but seldom attended by those dreadful symptoms and 
fatality, which accompany the same kind of fever, 
though of a more violent class, in the countries imme- 
diately between the tropics. This, in its common 
form, lasts about ten or twelve days, beginning to 
abate its violence, in general, after the seventh : the 
fourth or fifth is often fatal. 

*' I am persuaded, that whenever the yellow fever 
has made its appearance in the Floridas, it was im- 
ported from Jamaica or Havannah, as was the case in 



293 

1765, which, by the way, was almost universally an 
unhealthy ara, as well iti Europe as elsewhere. 

" This continual fever begins with an excessive 
heat of the whole body, continued though not violent 
head-ache, great drought of the tongue and palate, 
and consequently a continual desire to drink. Those 
people who die of this disorder generally depart on 
the fourth day, and I am of opinion that few are car- 
ried off by it, except such as are kept too close con- 
fined from the fresh air. I would recommend the 
keeping the sun out of the room, but to admit as 
much air as will gently ventilate it ; a cooling diet, 
such as rice gruel, barley water, infusions of balm 
or sage, and lemonade, which is lime juice, water, 
and very iiille sugar; lime juice, syrup of lemons, 
and currant jelly should moderately enter into every 
part of the patient's diet ; avoid all salt, spices, spi- 
rituous liquors, or generous wines : a gentle purge 
of glauber salt, with a few grains of kermes mineral^ 
and some drops of oil of mint, is generally given on 
the first appearance of the disease ; the effects of this 
are forwarded by frequent draughts of warm chicken 
broth. During the operation of this avoid all acids : 
bleeding, especially if the disease makes a violent 
attack, and the patient is of a plethoric habit, is indis- 
pensably necessary ; the patient ought, by all means, 
to avoid motion, and, notwithstanding the above cau- 
tion of admitting air in the room, keep himself 
covered, and be careful not to throw his bed-clothes 
aside. If the symptoms abate after the above mix- 



294 

ture, emetics are commonly prescribed : if it still 
continues, particularly if attended with delirium, le- 
thargic symptoms, or their reverse, blisters are ap- 
plied, and in great watchfulness some laudanum is 
used: if worms are suspected, an infusion of Indian 
pink root*, a very common plant here, leaves, wood, 
and all, is made use of as tea; but this plant pos- 
sessing a pretty strong narcotic qualify, ought to be 
used with caution. In excessive heats, some grains 
of sal nitri are added to the liquors administered to 
the patient ; and as soon as the fever begins to abate, 
some orange, lime, or lemon juice, saturated with 
salt of wormwood, is given by a small tea-cup full 
every two hours. 

" Intermittents are endemial in all low situations. 
Thus we see, in all the provinces to the southward, 
particular places remarkable for a continuance of this 
disorder in them ; such as, more especially, Jackson- 
burg, in South Carolina, Savannah, in Georgia, 
Rolles-town, and most of the settlements on St. 
John's, in East Florida, at Campbeltown, near the 
mouth of the Escambe, and at Mobile, in West Flo- 
rida. This disease attacks people much in the same 
form as the continued fever, the first fit frequently 
lasting three days without intermission. Physicians 
treat it nearly in the same manner as the last, but I 
have observed that they are very averse to taking 
blood from a patient afflicted with this disorder, say- 

" * I.onicoera. 



295 

L 

ing, that bleeding is a sure way to prolong the disease, 
although sometimes a small matter of blood is taken 
irom people of a very gross habit of body, when the 
returning fits seem to continue longer in point of 
time than at the first. The same diet is observ- 
ed as in the continued fever, ejccept when the pa- 
tient is very weak, when strong broths, well sepa- 
rated from the fat, are frequently given ; if delirious, 
or comatose symptoms, with pains in the back, &c. 
make their appearance, cooling medicines are used, 
during the paroxysms. Dr. James' powder or other 
antimonials ; and, on intermission, the bark in copi- 
ous doses is administeVed with effect, and in obsti- 
nate head-aches recourse is had to blisters. 

" This is a very tedious disease, and whoever is 
affected with it should not too soon judge himself 
cured, but continue taking a bitter infusion, com- 
posed of the bark of the root of the magnolia major ^ 
which the French on the Mississippi substitute in 
lieu of Jesuit's bark, with Virginia heart, snake-root, 
rue, sal absynth ; and pink root, in good Madeira or 
Lisbon wine. 

" People in general, suppose them even obliged to 
remainon the sickly spot during the fatal season, which 
is autumn, may, by care, in a great measure shun 
this tedious illness, such as living on a more gene- 
rous diet, especially animal food high seasoned, and 
a moderate glass of wine, avoiding a too great expo- 
sure to the then frequent sudden changes of air. 
They ought to use the cold bath often, v/ear garlic 



296 

and camphire in the pockets, not expose themselves 
to rain, and above all keep warm and dry feet, and if 
got w^et by rain not to change their clothes too sud- 
denly ; never go out of a morning fasting, but before 
you go to work, business, &c. eat a piece of bread, 
and drink a glass of the bitter infusion ; avoid the 
night air, and keep some fire in the house, particu- 
larly in the mornings and evenings, to rarify the damp 
air in the rooms, especially in the bed-rooms, m hich 
ought never to be on a lower floor, and should be in 
the eastern parts of the building, exposed to the 
morning sun. By observing these rules, the consti- 
tution of the human body will be less disposed to 
receive the impressions of a bad air. 

" An excellent thing to be given the negroes on 
a plantation, before they go to work, is a wine glass 
full of the above bitter ingredients, and garlic infused 
in rum, and they should be encouraged to chew and 
smoke tobacco. 

*' When a person is seized with a fit of the ague, 
he ought by no means to delay going to bed, and 
drink a draught of lime juice and powder of chalk, 
while it is fermenting in the glass : this will bring on 
a sweat, and shorten the fit ; or, in the hot fit, use 
some opiate, if the patient is not delirious : this ought 
to be done as often as the paroxysms return. 

" The nervous fever, likewise called the slow fe- 
ver, is known by a small, quick, and low pulse, and 
by not afiecting the patient with such violent heats as 
the other fevers, but with greater oppression about 



297 

the pr(€cordium ; it does not make them so thirsty; 
the tongue is at first unusually moist, and looks white, 
though at last it becomes dry, and looks brown or 
inflamed ; continual heats are felt in the palms of 
the hands, heats and chills return alternately very 
quick, a copious clammy weakening sweat, excessive 
lowness of spirits, restlessness, being drowsy vi^ithout 
power of sleeping, pain and giddiness of the head, 
ringing in the ears, and, if it lasts long, the tendons 
are often aifected with a sort of cramp ; deafness, de- 
liriums, continual lethargic fits ; insensibility and 
stupor are the constant attendants of this disorder, 
when in its last stages. 

*' This is a most treacherous disorder; and by 
affecting the sufferer with only slight symptoms of 
weariness and weakness, attended with frequent yawn- 
jings and stretchings, a slight giddiness and loss of 
appetite, and a great heat in the forehead, makes 
people neglect an early application to the physician, 
and thus tliey endanger themselves much, though in 
"people of a robust constitution, who are much ex- 
posed to the sun, it will often appear for the first day 
'or two with violent symptoms. This fever will last 
sometimes for twenty days or more, without any ap- 
parent abatement. It generally attacks people who 
"have been exposed to unusual fatigue, or such as are 
naturally of a weak constitution. Vomits are the 
remedy to which recourse is most usually had in this 
disorder. 

2 p 



298 

*' Physicians steadily and almost totally avoid 
bleeding and purging, till after a free use of the ipe- 
cacuana^ and even then their cathartic prescriptions 
are rarely any other than manna and salts, and after 
the gentle purges obtained by this method, they order 
a free use of rich chicken broth, and the above-des- 
cribed juice of lemons, saturated with sal ahsynth : 
this they generally continue until the disease changes 
into an intermittent fever, and then treat it in the 
manner last-mentioned, frequently also applying blis- 
ters. 

" This fever, more particularly than any other 
disorder, bears hardest on the patient towards sunset. 
The diet commonly prescribed is sago, chicken broth, 
and panado, with some small matter of wine and loaf 
sugar in the first and last. Infusions of sage and 
balm, together with wine whey, are the drink mostly 
thought proper, during the continuance of this disor- 
der. 

" The use of bark is generally blamed, as produc- 
tive of dropsy, jaundice, the ague cake*, and other 
inveterate chronical disorders, but it is certain that 
the bark is blameless ; it is the fault of the physi- 
cians, who too late and with too much caution use 
this blessed remedy, which seems as purposely de- 
signed by Providence to relieve us in those tedious 

" * A hardness in the region of the spleen, one of the conse- 
quences of long continued fevers, and by the Dutch Creoles dis- 
tinguished by this ir.ime. They call it, in their own language, 
kork in de buyck, or simply dc kock. 



299 

disorders ; or it is that of the patient himself, who, pre- 
judiced against this excellent remedy, refuses to take 
it till it is too late, and thereby brings upon himself 
the above diseases, which are consequences of the fe- 
vers, not of this great specific. 

" The above-mentioned fevers, and unusual hard- 
ships in travelling, &c. as well as excesses at plenti- 
ful tables full of variety, often bring on a severe 
bloody flux, especially in autumn, and if this makes 
its appearance with hard, dry, and bloody stools, the 
disease is dangerous. Brisk purges, and clysters of 
Castile soap, and some of the hot seeds are used to 
expel these ; when the desired end is obtained, gen- 
tle emetics are called in. I have known people find 
great relief from a decoction of logwood and pome- 
granate skins ; others again it would not help in the 
least ; a new honey -comb, inclosed in an apple 
scooped out, and then roasted before the fire, has 
often proved a speedy and very effectual remedy ; 
calcined hart^.horn, a nauseous medicine, is nonsense; 
bark of sumach is a good medicine, but there being a 
dangerous kind, it ought to be gathered by a skilful 
hand ; the bark of the liquidambar styracifliia, aceris 
folio, together with the gum exuding from the same 
tree, is generally found efficacious ; a wine glass full 
of the juice of lemons, mixed with some common 
salt, has often proved a most excellent, safe, and ge- 
neral specific ; the frequent chew ing of cinnamon 
and camomile flowers, especially when a weak sto- 
mach vexes the patient, has a noble effect ; avoid all 



300 

vegetable food, except rice ; eat roasted ratlier than 
boiled flesh ; salted beef need not to be avoided ; use 
often veal, jellies, and salop ; use a great deal of 
mustard ; I know by the experience of many, as A\ell 
as my own, that Dr. Barry's observation of vegetables 
not being so easily assimilated as animal food, is in 
the strictest sense universally true ; and in an obsti- 
nate continuance of this disorder, vegetables, even 
our common wheaten bread, are not at all digested, 
but most generally pass through the body unaltered. 
When this disease changes into a chronic habitual 
flux, it will be necessary to use pills of equal parts of 
rhubarb and ipecacuanay mixed with some liquid 
opiate, and use weak lime water for common drink. 
If this does not prove a specific, let the patient be 
removed to some other clime, for no remedy will 
aflect that disorder in the same climate where it was 
originally contracted. Claret or port ought to be 
their constant drink in this disease, and spirituous 
liquors ought by all means to be avoided : rum, a 
cursed bane of health and of society, is too often and 
indiscriminately applied to every disease, as a uni- 
versal arcanum. 

" The cholera morbus is likewise a consequence of 
intemperate meals, and when it is not occasioned by 
any food peculiarly repugnant to the stomach, it often 
proves fatal. 

" Debauch of every kind, particularly unseason- 
able sitting up, is most frequently productive of some 



301 

of the most dreadful disorders, and excessive passions 
of the mind sometimes produce the same effects. 

" Excess in venery js generally productive of the 
most violent and obstinate disorders, principally in- 
flammatory fevers and obstinate fluxes. 

' ' There is a disease which the French call la tyta- 
nose^ which affects people in the western parts of 
Florida, and w'ill attack them with prodigious vio- 
lence upon being wounded, even in the slightest man- 
ner : if, during the hot months, a splinter be run into 
the flesh, the patients are attacked with violent con- 
torsive spasms, and generally die in about eighteen 
or twenty hours. 

" I never sav/ any person afflicted with this dread- 
ful disorder, but from the similarity of the name with 
the Latin tetanus^ and from my being told that opium 
and camphire are much used to procure relief, I take 
it to be the locked jaw, with which I saw a young 
man die at Mobile. Mr. Lind* recommends copious 
external applications of opium, and the cold bath, 
and gives some imperfect account of mercurial oint- 
ment having lately proved an efficacious remedy : the 
hint was perhaps necessary to be inserted here. 

" Angina suffocatha^ or the putrid sore throat, 
sometimes appears here. This is a contagious dis- 
temper, and rages in America mostly among the 
youth. It generally begins with a slow fever, at- 
tended with great lassitude and a low pulse. This is 

'' * Hot Climates, second edition, page 285 — 286. 



302 

succeeded by a sore throat, w ith \vhite ypots near the 
ti'vida; and if it be not immediately taken notice of, 
the patient soon becomes past hopes, and generally 
dies within twenty-four hours after the first severe 
attack of the fever. The physicians in Carolina ami 
Georgia prescribe first mercurial purges, and order a 
partible of borax, drae:on's blood, and Armenian bole, 
in vinegar and honey ; and the throat is anointed fre- 
Jjuently, by help of a feather, with a mixture of bal- 
sam of sulphur, tincture of myrrh, honey, loaf sugar, 
and yolk of eggs. The principal part of the cure is 
to attend the disease early, the least neglect being 
dangerous. 

" The dry belly-ache is a very painful and tor- 
menting disorder, though rarely fatal. It is occa- 
sioned by cold damp lodgings, and being exposed to 
the night air, but most frequently, in all climates, by 
an excessive use of the vegetable acid juices, which 
are all extremely astringent in their nature : and 
when this disorder proceeds from too liberal a use of 
punch, rheumatic pains and paralytic affections of the 
nerves are its constant consequences and attendants, 
with loss of the proper use of limbs, often for life. 
The most usual symptoms are the vomiting of bile, 
with the most obstinate costive habit imaginable ; and 
when stools are procured, the excrements are exces- 
sive hard, and in round balls like horse dung : all 
this is attended with the most excruciating pain in 
the bowels, and a clammy sweat. The method of 
cure is by administering emetics of the antimonial 



303 

kind, which often also procure a stool : this is the 
only thing that can relieve the poor siifterers ; the 
Marm steam of hot herb baths, clysters of the ti7ict. 
Thebaic, in luke-warm milk, and emollient plasters, 
in \\hich opium enters, applied to the stomach and 
belly ; bitter purging salts and manna, and infusions 
of senna leaves, after the middle vein is stript out of 
them ; in the severe attacks of the pain, opiates are 
used, and too often that cursed arcanum of the vul- 
gar among the English, I mean rum and other dis- 
tilled spirits, which in this disorder too often prove 
fatal poisons ; the oil oi palmcs Christce, by three or 
four spoonfuls, has sometimes proved effectual ; oil 
of almonds and of olives have been given with suc- 
cess. 

" After all medicines had failed, I once applied to 
a mulato v/oman, who was a noted empiric in the 
island of Curacoa, where I was attacked by this dis- 
temper. She ordered a clyster of sweet milk, tobacco, 
and brown sugar, v.hich gave some slight relief, but 
after a while the painful symptoms of the disease 
seemed to be as excruciating as ever ; she then ga- 
thered some handfuls of the leaves of a shrub which 
is there called ivild carpal; these she boiled like 
spinnage, and made them into seven or eight balls of 
the size of walnuts, put them in a plate, and poured 
oil olive on them, and a little pepper ; this kind of 
sallad she made me eat with a piece of bread, when I 
observed to her, that she ought to have added vine- 
gar to hav^ made a perfect sallad. She answered, 



304 

that vinegar in my case was poison. In half an hour 
after the use of this mess, a stool, the first in twenty- 
three days, was procured, which was followed by 
five or six more that very afternooon ; and she then 
gave me for some days an intensely bitter mixture, in 
which I perceived the juice of aloes predominant, but 
could not learn the composition. This kept me in a 
lax habit of body, and in about fourteen days I was 
enabled to pursue my ordinary avocations. Cam- 
phire and opium enter into all the purgative pre- 
scriptions I have seen ordered in this disease, by the 
physicians of the south. 

" There is an instantaneous fatal disorder, which 
the French call iin coup de sole'il^ i. e. literally, a stroke 
of the sun. Of this I remember one instance, during 
my stay in West Florida, when it killed a child of 
about twelve years old on the spot, between the hours 
of eleven and twelve in the forenoon, the time, as I 
am informed, in which it alwaj^s takes place. By 
instantly applying cold water to the crown of the 
head, I am told, its fatality is prevented ; likewise by 
cupping the crown of the head. What its symptoms 
are I have not seen, but, by the descriptions, I take it 
to be a fever, which so violently attacks the patient, 
that it causes instant death. This disorder occurs 
very seldom, and as it is so very easily guarded 
against, persons who are attacked by it are in a great 
measure blamcable for their own misfortune, pariicu- 
larly if they know the country. The French, one 
and all, put a single piece of clean writing paper be- 



305 

tw'ecn their hat an^ head, during the hot months, to 
ward oft' the attacks of the coup de sole'il. 

" These are the diseases which occur during the 
hot seasons. There is likewise a fever, in which the 
jjatient is continually affected with defluxions of the 
head. This appears in the late winter months, and 
during a wet spring : it is called a catarrhal fever. 
This disease is not frequent, but when it appears, it 
is generally treated like other fevers, except that 
bleeding is more freely used. 

" The pleurisy also makes its appearance some- 
times in winter. Moderate or copious bleedings from 
the arm, according to the degrees of violence of its 
attacks, are immediately used: if looseness and gripes 
attend the pain, blood is taken away often, and in 
small quantities ; the patient is kept moderately 
warm, and on no account suffered to uncover ; the 
first medicine is commonly a cooling purge ; gentle 
sudorifics are likewise administered ; frequent hot 
baths for the feet are also prescribed, but very cau- 
tiously applied, for fear of his catching cold. After 
the operation of purges and sudorifics, gentle antimo- 
nials are used, and a light easy digested diet, with 
infusions of hyssop, sage, or balm, follow in course; 
likewise swallowing of living wood-lice ; and in case 
of costive symptoms, clysters are used ; on the con- 
tinuance of the pain in the side, a moderate blister or 
drawing plaster is put to the part; much coughing, 
which causes a watchfulness, is removed by opiates ; 
in feverish symptoms, the disease is treated as the 

2a 



306 

other fevers ; spirituous liquors are to be avoided by- 
all means. 

*' During some winters, 7\. pcripneiimony also visits 
a few people here : the method of cure is the same 
as for the pleurisy. It is said to be more dangerous 
than the pleurisy, particularly if copious bleeding is 
not made use of as soon as the patient is affected. In 
this disorder there is generally a freer access of air 
allowed than in the last, and the patient kept almost 
in a sitting posture. It is said that the steams of 
warm water drawn into the lungs in this disease is a 
powerful Help. 

" A compound of the two last disorders, called 
the pleuro-peripneumony\ is likewise sometimes heard 
of, and is treated as the last. . 

" In Georgia I saw one or two instances of a disor- 
der among blacks, to which the people give the odd 
name of the pleurisy of the temple, of the forehead, 
of the eye, and so on : I am told they have a pleurisy 
for every part of the head. It is violently acute, and, 
as I am informed, proves sometimes fatal in ten or 
twelve hours time, if, immediately on its attack, a 
quantity of blood is not drawn from the arm. For 
the rest, this disease is treated like a pleurisy. 

" The chronic diseases are dropsies, consump- 
tions, hemorrhoidal and habitual fluxes, relaxed and 
bilious habits of body, ruptures, Avorm-fevers, and, 
among blacks, the leprosy, eleph^antiasis, and body 
yaws : which last in Carolina is called the lame dis- 
temper. The first five of these are often best re- 



307 

moved by a change of air, as the most efficacious 
medicines often prove of no use against the obstinacy 
of the disorders, in the climate where they first ori- 
ginated. 

*' The dropsy most frequently seizes a patient after 
an obstinate intermitting fever, where the use of the 
bark has been too long delayed. In this disorder 
the ordinary prescriptions in these countries is syrup 
of squills, and the common diuretic salt ; with these 
the patient is confined to dry food, and from spiritu- 
ous liquors ; such vegetables as turnips, radishes, 
&c. he is allowed to indulge in. Dr. Lind says, that 
exciting a slight salivation may be of help in a toler- 
able sound constitution : perhaps none of the chronic 
diseases are more relieved by change of climate than 
an obstinate dropsy. A consumptive habit of body, 
particularly where the cough is very obstinate and 
frequent, and when bilious stools, with a great hard- 
ness of the lower belly, affect the patient, or when a 
'continual fever emaciates the poor sufferer, he is in a 
dangerous way, and* a remove to colder climates is 
hardly adviseable. I have known such people re- 
lieved by making frequent short voyages to sea, in 
moderate climates ; but unless proper remedies are 
also made use of during these voyages, the fever re- 
turns almost directly on re-landing. Frequently, after 
one or two of these voyages, the patient feels himself 
better. If he then retires to a milk diet, and freely 
indulges himself in fruits, utterly avoiding all manner 
of drugs and medicines, he may find relief, and even 



308 

a return of constitution. Frequent doses of flour of 
brimstone, and cooling the water he drinks with sal 
nitre, are of use during this course ; likewise the pa- 
tient ought with the greatest care to avoid exercise : 
the stiller he keeps himself, the more hopes of reco- 
very there is. The fever which attends this disor- 
der is of such a nature, that here the use of the bark 
must be carefully shunned, as it has been during long 
practice, and by frequent experiments of very able 
physicians, found to be a sure poison in this dis- 
order. 

" The Spaniards wear the nest of the great travel- 
ling spider sowed in a rag about their necks, as a 
sure way to assuage a hectic fever, and I think with 
great success. It is a matter of surprise to see how 
perhaps a thousand animalcules^ which are in perfect 
life in one of these nests, at the time of its being put 
round the patient's neck, will, in the course of about 
thirty hours, be perfectly pulverised by meer dint of 
the heat of the body, which these young spiders seem 
in a peculiar manner to attract.' In hardness of the 
belly, in this disorder, most of the Creoles use hard 
and frequent rubbing it with a warm hand dipt in oil 
or hog's lard, ^ere: bear's oil being so very sub- 
tle and penetrating, would it not be preferable in 
rubbing ? 

" The hajRorrho'idal flux is very frequent here, 
and was it not so very troublesome an attendant, it 
would be looked upon as a beneficial event. Persons 
who are attacked by it are generally certain of not 



509 

falling into the more dangerous diseases occasioned 
by obstructions of the viscera in hot climates. The 
greatest danger attending it is that of the patient fall- 
ing into a habitual flux, which is a most tedious and 
troublesome disease, and that, although the patient 
has no other complaint but 4he frequent necessity of 
going to stool, and is but seldom troubled with an 
involuntary expulsion of the fceces^ this disease is 
almost always a slow though sure harbinger of death, 
by its continuance for years, draining the very last 
drop of moisture from the sufferer, who, being left a 
mere skeleton, is, as it were, carried oiT in the man- 
ner of an expiring candle snuft\ Yet those persons, 
who have been opened after death, have been found 
with all the inward parts perfectly sound, and thus 
the faculty is left in the dark, without any way to ac- 
count for this disorder. I have heard of people of a 
very robust constitution, with whom it has continued 
•above twenty years. No disease is so frequent. It 
almost always attacks people who have suffered much 
from frequent sickness or severe fatigue, and its ob- 
stinacy is such, that it will yield to no remedy what- 
ever in the climate where it originated. I have my- 
self been attacked by it, first in the province of Geor- 
gia, in consequence of the great fatigue I underwent, 
in my frequent long and wearisome journies by land. 
No astringent of any kind, not even the long use of 
rhubarb and ipecacuana, was of the least service to 
me ; vain was every medicine against this obstinate 
malady. Opium Avas recommended to me as a spe- 



310 

cific ; this I took at length in incredible doses, but 
the relief was only momentary ; after the short re- 
prieve obtained hereby, it returned with tenfold vio- 
lence and obstinacy. If then I wsls unhappy enough 
to use opium during this attack, it was of no use 
^vhatever, but obliged me, for the next time, to seek 
respite from a double dose. The cold bath I found 
of some slight benefit ; and when I was at the pro- 
per season in any part of Florida where the coco- 
plumb* grew in abundance, by freely eating this 
wholesome fruit I was relieved for that season ; and 
no sooner was I obliged tcf abandon this excellent re- 
med}'-, but the disease again prevailed. Thus was I 
harassed for about eight years, when I changed cli- 
mates, by coming to New York. Here likewise all 
medical prescriptions failed, till at length I found that 
a decoction of the bark of scmi-riiba and terra japo- 
nica, in the proportion of half an ounce of each to six 
pounds of water, being boiled down to one-sixth, 
was an effectual medicine after the change of climate, 
which last alone must not be relied on. One quart 
of the above decoction, in the quantity of a wine 
glass full, taken morning and evening, cured me ; 
but relapsing again, after about three months, I got 
another quart, with the two first glasses of which I 
took a small pill of crude opium, and by two more 
glasses full I found myself again restored to my natu- 
ral habit of body. 

" * C/tn.'so Calauus. 



311 

*' An entire relaxation of the solids, and a bilious 
habit of body, is another common affliction of those 
who have suffered much by the diseases of hot cli- 
mates. The constitution is in such people so de- 
cayed, that it seems as if every moment would be 
that of dissolution ; the stomach is weak, their com- 
plexion is nearly that of a sufferer by the jaundice, 
and hardly any food, especially greens and sallads, is 
found digestible. If the dry belly-ache has been 
their frequent attendant, a paralytic contraction of 
the limbs is the final consequence of that malady. 
Others again will vomit clear bile, and be very cos- 
tive, having the abdomen exceeding hard. For all 
these complaints there is no better cure than a change 
of climate, and when the patient begins to feel any 
benefit from the difference of air while at sea, I would 
recommend a plentiful and constant use of camomile 
flowers, chewing them in the same m.anner as people 
do tobacco : this, however disagreeable to most pa- 
lates at first, becomes in time as agreeable to the 
mouth as it is grateful to the stomach. The use of 
elixir 'vitrioli, in the quantity of fifteen or twenty 
drops, taken every morning fasting, and again an 
hour before dinner ; and the moderate use of a glass 
of generous wine is not amiss to such sufferers. Ani- 
mal food, especially mutton, is the most suitable diet, 
and, in case of an obstinate costiveness, use the elixir 
aloes often at nio-ht or in the mornins:. The cold 
bath, especially of salt M^ater, is very beneficial to 
such sufferers. 



512 

'' Ruptures arc pretty much complained of on the 
banks of the Mississippi. I have observed likewise 
that they are a g9od deal frequent in Georgia and in 
Carolina. What can be the cause of a disorder of 
this kind being frequent I know not ; but I find in a 
pamphlet, Avhich gives a superficial description of 
South Carolina, the following way to account for it: 
* The obstructed viscera being swelled beyond their 
natural size, the intestines are too much confined ; 
and by nature of the aliment and bad digestion being 
frequently distended with wind, it is not to be won- 
dered at that they often pass through the rings of the 
abdominal muscles.' 

" The worm fever, which is common throughout 
all America, especially from Pennsylvania south- 
wards, is not so common here as in Carolina, Geor- 
gia, &c. The reason I take to be because the sweet 
potatoe is not so universally used for food here as 
elsewhere ; children suffer most ^iih it, though it 
sometimes affects people of all ages. When a fever 
obstinately withstands all medicines, it may almost 
be depended upon that this obstinacy proceeds from 
Avorms. The stinking weed, which is known by the 
name of Jerusalem oak, and in those provinces is the 
most efficacious vermifuge, and the safest medicine, 
especially for children ; a spoonful of the expressed 
juice of the whole plant, taken on an empty stomach, 
is found to be a sovereign antidote. The lonic^era I 
have already mentioned, as to its qualities. If the 
worms are suspected to be lodged in the rectum^ 



clysters of a decoction of tansev, onions, garlick, rue, 
wormwood, and such like, in milk, are of good ef- 
fect ; a plaster of pulverised aloes, oil of rue, or 
wormwood, with powder of the bitter gourd and ox- 
gal, applied to the navel, is also of good effect. I 
would recommend the use of animal food, particu- 
larly rich fish soups, highly seasoned with garlic or 
onions, and it will be proper to avoid all kinds of fa- 
rinaceous vegetables, except wheaten bread : above 
all, the potatoe and pumpkin ought to be shunned as 
poison. 

" A loathsome disease appears sometimes among 
the negroes, after severe acute disorders, especially if 
the patient has been obliged to keep his bed long, 
likewise after a violent exercise has brought on a 
surfeit. This is called the elephantiasis from the 
swelling of the feet and legs : it is most frequently 
seen to affect one leg only. In the first stages of this 
disorder, the patient becomes wretched through ex- 
cessive lassitudes, which bring on an emaciation of 
the body ; then the corrupted juices subside into the 
leg or legs, and feet ; these swell, the skin becomes 
distended, shines and shows the distended veins 
every where below the knee ; now the skin by de- 
grees loses its gloss, and becomes unequal and some- 
thing scaly ; after this chaps make their appearance, 
the glands are stretched, and the scales are daily en- 
larged, appearing as hard and callous as the hide of 
an alligator, notwithstanding which, the slightest 

2 R 



314 

prick of a pointed instrument \vill cause the blood 
to exude. This disease affects neither the appetite nor 
the digestive powers of the body ; on the contrary, 
the patient, in this and cheerfulness of spirits, resem- 
bles the heakhicst of men, and the inconvenience of 
his heavy leg onl}^ prevents his abiUty for the more 
laborious part of his duty. 

" No manner of cure has yet been found for this 
cruel disorder, but the patients often live to a very 
advanced age under the pressure of its yoke, even 
when it has been contracted in early youth. It is 
said that the amputation of the affected limbs is no 
cure, for the disease will immediately attack the 
sound leg. This I find also asserted by Hughes^ in 
his Natural History of Barbadoes. 

" I have seen three or four instances of the disease 
called body yaws in the islands, and in Carolina the 
lame distemper. This is said to proceed from here- 
ditary venereal taints. It appears in cancerous corrod- 
ing sores in the mouth and throat, and spreading 
ulcers, together with fleshy protuberances, chiefly on 
the face, breast, and thighs, with a sw^elling of the 
skin and knee- bones, and commonly corrodes the car- 
tilages of the nose. Its first symptoms showing them 
selves about the throat and palate, have caused igno- 
rant people to mistake it for the angina suffocatha 
before-described. Mercurial medicines are used 
against it, afterwards diet drinks of China root, nut- 
^rass, &:c. The sores in the mouth are often to be 



315 

rubbed with a feather dipt in syrup of roses, to an 
ounce of which two drops of sp. 'vitr. have been 
added. Unctuous, sah, spiced meats, and spiritu- 
ous liquors, are absohitely to be avoided ; frequent 
sweats are also prescribed, and a great care against 
catching cold. 

" The leprosy so called ; whether the same as was 
the cause of proscription to the unhappy patients, 
under the Mosaic laws, I shall not pretend to deter- 
mine : certain it is, that it is a nauseous, loathsome, 
and infectious disease, sometimes seen among the 
blacks. This appears first with the loss of beard and 
hair from the eyebrows, swelling of the lobes of the 
ears, the face begins to shine, and brown protuber- 
ances appear thereon, the lips and nose swell to a 
monstrous size, the fingers and toes will in the end 
drop off, and the body becomes at last so ulcerated, 
as to make the poor incurable patient really a miser- 
able object of pity." 

To these ample quotations I shall only add, that 
the author confirms the principal circumstances of 
the shipwreck of Pierre Viaud and madame La 
Couture, which took place on the shore of Apalachi- 
cola : but when they came to relate their adventures, 
they turned them into a romance. The eggs they 
found were those of the tortoise, and not, as they tell 
us, turkies' eggs. He mentions persons by whom 
these two sufferers were assisted after their ship- 
iWreck. It is much to be regretted, that a book, con- 



316 

taming such various, authentic, and useful informa- 
tion, has not been translated into French*. 

* We may also express regret that it has not been republished 
in its native language. The vicinity of Florida to the United 
States, and the probability of its being incorporated with our ter- 
ritory, in a little time, would render its contents uncommonly in- 
teresting to the present, and still more so to the next generation. 
— Trans. 



sir 



No. III. 



On the History of JVeiv Hampshire^ by Jeremiah Belknajiy and the 
History of Vermont^ by Samuel Williains. 

I. 

MR. BELKNAP'S History of New Hamp- 
shire, to which I have often referred, and which has 
not been translated into French, is published at Bos- 
ton, in three octavo volumes. The history of the 
colony is given in the first and second volumes, and 
the picture he draws is more worthy of attention, be- 
cause it shows the original of many customs, which, 
though first created by positive laws, have since be- 
come inveterate habits, and form the most intimate 
ingredients in the character of the people. 

This history displays, in strong colours, the austere 
spirit of the early colonists, who imposed the most 
rigid restraints on the intercourse between one sex 
and the other, and even between those of the same sex; 
on the forms of courtship ; on the looks and behavi- 
our at home and abroad ; on the carriage of the head, 
the eyes, and the limbs : whence have proceeded that 
ceremonious tone, those grave and silent airs, and all 



those prim formalities which still distinguish the fe- 
males of the United States^. Women were prohibited 
from exposing their arms and necks -, the raiment was 
to descend to the wrist, and ascend to the chin. Men 
were obliged to cut their hair short : drinking healths 
was forbidden, as a rite of idolatry ; and it was a 
crime to brew on Saturday, because the liquor might 
ivork on a Sundayt- Disobedience to any of these 
precepts exposed the culprit to legal process and con- 
dign punishment ; a real inquisition was established ; 
and all the habits generated by religious persecution 
took root in the minds of the people : among these 
were taciturnity, reserve, hypocrisy, the habits of sys- 
tem and union|, with energy of resolution and -resist- 
ance after patience has been exhausted. This work is 
useful and interesting, on account of its moral views 



* What a groundless and extravagant inference ! Mr. Belk- 
nap's history relates only to New Hampshire, or, at furthest, to 
New England. The rest of the United States arose from very 
different beginnings. The founders of Maryland were Romanists; 
of Virginia and the Carolinas episcopalians ; of New York Hol- 
landers; of Pennsylvania quakers, whose early laws and manners 
were total strangers to what is here recorded ; and, even in New 
England, these austere laws have been long ago consigned to 
oblivion and contempt. — Trans. 

t This trite and wretched Jiun^ so evidently a mere joke, is here 
stated gravely, as a fact and a law. Volney could not have gotten 
this from Belknap, though the context implies as much, but has 
heard it, as most travellers have done, in a string of other jests in 
a stage coach.— Than s. 

\ Combinaison d' idees et de plans. — V. 



319 

and its laborious authenticity ; but the muUitude of 
minute particulars, of no concern or interest to us, 
would perhaps scarcely warrant the pains of transla- 
tion. 

The third volume bears a very different stamp. It 
contains a regular description of this district, its cli- 
mate, soil, and productions, its trade and agriculture, 
and, in fine, every thing relative to the condition of 
the country. This part of the work may be com- 
pared to Mr. Jefferson's account of Virginia. In both 
w^e find as extensive and accurate a statistical account 
of the states of which they treat, as could be ex- 
pected from the zeal and labours of a single indivi- 
dual. Mr. Jefferson, whose work appeared in 1782, 
has the credit of first leading the way, and of sur- 
mounting the chief difficulty, in first tracing a design 
till then new*. Mr. Belknap's work appeared ten 
years afterwards, and had thus the opportunity of 
profiting by the facts anil methods acquired in the 
progress of the statistical science. This volume, of 
480 pages, is capable of some abridgment, as many 
particulars are uninteresting to us. If we overlook 
some effusions of prejudice, natural to the author's 
character as an American and clergyman, and which 
show themselves in declamations against the philo- 
sophers and travellers of Europe, his work is one of 

* The forming a plan of enquiry, and distributing a subject 
into pt-oper parts, hardly deserves the name of the chief difficulty. 
Any ingenious mind can perform this, but to fill up the outline, 
/tic labor, hoc oput est% — Trans. 



320 

the most instructive and philosophical with which 
America is capable of enriching our language. 



II. 



The praise I have given to Mr. Belknap is like- 
wise justly due to S. Williams, who published, in 
one volume, octavo, of 400 pages, a History, Natural 
and Civil, of Vermont. The book is divided into 
seventeen chapters. The first six chapters describe 
the situation, boundaries, surface, soil, mountains, 
caverns, springs, rivers, lakes, climate, seasons, and 
vegetable and animal productions. The seventh and 
eighth chapters treat of the character, manners, and 
condition of the Indians. The three next chapters 
detail the history of the state, and the rest of the work 
discusses the occupations of the people, their man- 
ners and customs, connected with education, mar- 
riage and social life ; their religious spirit and esta- 
blishments ; their mode of government, population, 
and notions of civil liberty : the last of which he 
thinks chiefly owing to the situation and condition of 
the people. 

Mr. Williams may" sometimes be thought too mi- 
nute and circumstantial, but the information he con- 
veys is, in many respects, so valuable and authentic, 
that I consider this book as the principal means of dif- 
fusing natural knowledge among the people of Ame- 
rica. I procured a literal version of it, as well as the 



321 

third volume of Belknap, with a view of finally turn- 
ing it into good French ; but I have since been in- 
duced to relinquish this design, not only by the weak 
and precarious state of my health, but by informa- 
tion that the task is undertaken by a person who 
will soon publish the result of his labours* . 

* The true meUicd of translation I take to be this. We should 
first turn the foreign book into v/ords as exactly and literally an- 
swering to those of the original as possible. As the idiom of our 
own tongue would, in such a process, be lost and confounded, we 
should lay it aside for some time, and, when the original is for- 
gotten, we should take up our literal version, and, by correcting 
and new modelling the style, we may be able to produce an excel- 
lent performance, as well as a faithful translation. To make 
even a tolerable translation is no easy undertaking. 



2 S 



322 



No. IV. 



Galiifiolis^ or the French colony at Scioto. 

A CERTAIN association, called the Scioto 
Company, proposed, at Paris, in 1790, with much 
parade, the sale of some lands in the best part of the 
United States, at 120 cents an acre. They dealt out 
the most liberal promises and charming prospects, 
such as people are generally accustomed to offer on 
these occasions. " A climate wholesome and delight- 
ful, frost, even in winter, almost entirely unknown, 
and a river called, by way of eminence, the beautiful^ 
and abounding in excellent fish, of a vast size. No- 
ble forests, consisting of trees that spontaneously pro- 
duce sugar (tJoe sugar maple J^ and a plant that yields 
ready made candles (myr'ica ccrifera). Venison in 
plenty, the pursuit of which is uninterrupted by 
wolves, foxes, lions, or tygers. A couple of swine 
will multiply themselves a hundred fold in two or 
three years, without taking any care of them. No 
taxes to pay, no military services to be performed." 
These munificent promis^ers forgot to say, that 
these forests must be cut dov/n before corn could be 
raised ; that for a year at least they must bring their 



323 

daily bread from a great distance ; that hunting and 
fishing are agreeable amusements, when pursued for 
the sake of amusement, but are widely different when 
followed for the sake of subsistence : and they quite 
forgot to mention, that though there be no bears or 
tygers, in the neighbourhood, there aire wild beasts 
infinitely more cunning and ferocious, in the shape 
of men, who were at that time at open and cruel war 
with the whites. 

In truth, the market value of these lands, at that 
time, in America, was no more than six or seven 
cents an acre. In France, in Paris, the imagination 
was too heated to admit of doubt or suspicion, and 
people were too ignorant and uninformed to perceive 
w'here the picture was defective, and its colours too 
glaring. The ex'ample, too, of the wealthy and re- 
putedly Avise confirmed the popular delusion. No- 
thing was talked of, in every social circle, but the 
paradise that was opened for Frenchmen in the wes- 
tern wilderness ; the free and happy life to be led on 
the blissful banks of the Scioto. At length Brissot 
published his travels, and completed the flattering 
delusion : buyers became numerous and importunate, 
chiefly among the better sort of the middle class : 
single persons and whole families disposed of their 
all, flattering themselves with having made excellent 
bargains at a crown an acre, because in France, near 
Paris, good ground was worth above eighty or a hun- 
dred crowns. Each one set off", in his own time, from 



324 

some French ports, in the course of 1791, and Paris 
heard no more of these adventurers. 

On my arrival in America, in October, 1795, I 
made some enquiry after these people, but could only 
hear a vague story that they were buried somewhere 
in the v/estern Avilds, and had not prospered. Next 
summer I shaped my course through Virginia, and 
after travelling three hundred miles to Staunton, two 
hundred more, over a rugged desart, to the Great 
Kenhavvah, and sixty miles down that river, through 
a scene still more dreary and desolate, to the Ohio, 
I at last reached a village called Point Pleasant, four 
miles from Gallipolis : by this splendid appellation 
(which means French city) ;he emigrants denominated 
their settlement. My eagerness to see the face and 
hear the the language of my countrymen, once more, 
made rae hasten thither without delay. 

Colonel Lewis, a kinsman of general Washington, 
facilitated my journey. I went on, but reflecting 
that 1 v/as going to visit Frenchmen, disappointed in 
their dearest hopes, their vanity mortified, and their 
mortification likely to be aggravated by the sight of 
one, who had probably foretold their misfortunes to 
some of them, my impatience was greatly diminished. 
It was night- fall before I reached the village, and I 
cor.ld perceive nothing but a double row of small v. hite 
houses, built on the fiat top of the bank of the Ohio, 
which here laves the foot of a cliff fifty feet high. 
The water being low, I climbed the bank, by a slope 
formed in its side, and was conducted to a log house 



325 

called an inn. It was kept by a Frenchman, who 
asked me but few questions, and his demeanour 
evinced the truth of all my prognostics. 

Next day I took a view of the place, and was struck 
with its forlorn appearance ; with the thin pale faces, 
sickly looks, and anxious air of its inhabitants. — 
They were shy of conversing with me. Their dwel- 
lings, though made externally cheerful by whitewash, 
were only log huts, patched with clay, and roofed 
with shingles, consequently damp, unwholesome, and 
uncomfortable. The village forms an oblong quad- 
rangle of two rows of contiguous buildings, which a 
spark would consume altogether. This, with many 
other faults, they owe to the negligence of the com- 
pany. Adjoining these huts are gardens, fenced v/ith 
thorn, destitute of trees, but well stocked with useful 
vegetables. Behind these gardens runs a creek, 
nearly parallel to the river, which makes the scite of 
the town nearly a peninsula. This creek, at low 
water, shows a bottom of black mud, and the over- 
flowings of the river run up this creek, and spread 
themselves over some pestiferous marshes. South- 
east lies the broad expanse of the river, but in front 
and to the north there appear nothing but interminable 
forests. Above the town, the clayey and tenacious 
soil retains the rain water, and forms marshes, ex- 
tremely unhealthful in the autumn. From July to 
November intermittents are extremely prevalent. 

I met with nobody v/ho had known me before, but 
their confidence was easily obtained, and I collected 



32G 

from several persons the following history of their 
disastrous expedition. 

About five hundred mechanics, artists, and trades- 
men, in easy circumstances, and of good morals, ar- 
rived, in 1791 and 1792, at New York, Philadelphia, 
and Baltimore, from France. Each paid twenty or 
twenty-four guineas passage money, and their jour- 
nies by land, in both hemispheres, cost them an equal 
sum. Thus dispersed, without any common plan of 
operations, they made, separately, their way towards 
Pittsburg and the Ohio, where their new home was 
situated. After many mistakes on the road, and a great 
v.'aste of time and money, they reached a point, mark- 
ed out upon a map, where the company had erected 
barracks for their accommodation. This company 
soon after became bankrupt, failing in its payments 
to the Ohio company, the original proprietors. — 
These, of course, not deeming themselves bound by 
the engagements of their debtors, refused the land to 
the emigrants. A vexatious law suit was the con- 
sequence, the more distressing to them, as their 
money was now exhausted. The United States were 
at war w ith the Indians, who disputed the right of the 
former to this very district. After the defeat of St. 
Clair, the savages blockaded the poor Frenchmen in 
their settlement, made captives of four, and scalped 
a fifth, who survived this dreadful operation. 

Despondency overv, helmed them : some of them 
forsook the fatal spot, and withdrew into the country 
better peopled, or passed into Louisiana. At last. 



527 

after four years of dangers, hardships, and vexations, 
the poor ren\nant obtained a tract of 912 acres, for a 
new advance of 1100 dollars. This boon tlicy owed 
to a son of general Putnam, who benefited them in a 
still more signal and disinterested manner, by refusing 
1200 dollars oiTered by two Frenchmen, with a view 
of getting the whole into their own hands, and then 
extorting an exorbitant price from their companions. 

They were again fortunate in receiving, from the 
congress of 1795, a gratuitous present of 20,000 
acres, opposite Sandy Creek. This bounty was the 
more remarkable, because the animosity against 
France, which broke out the next year, began already 
to prevail in that assembly. Of this land 4000 acres 
belonged to those whose activity had promoted the 
gift, and the rest was distributed among eighty-two 
or eighty-four persons who remained. 

When I paid my visit, only a year had elapsed since 
this arrangement had been made, and the settlement 
had already begun to revive and prosper, in such a 
manner as showed what great things would have been 
effected, had not its progress been checked by such 
heavy misfortunes. Still the situation of the colonists 
was far from being agreeable. All the labours of 
clearing and tillage were imposed on the family itself 
of the proprietor, labourers not being to be hired but 
at enormous prices. It may easily be imagined how 
severe a hardship it was, on men brought up in the 
ease and indolence of Paris, to chop trees, to plough, 
to sow, to reap, to labour in the field or the barn, in 



528 

a heat of 85 or 95 degrees. It is true, the soil was 
fertile, and the season propitious. In autumn and 
winter, venison was a cent or two a pound, and bread 
was two or three cents ; but money was extremely 
scarce. The maple, tapped in February, aiforded 
those who attended to the produce perhaps a hundred 
pounds of coarse dark sugar, frequently injured in 
the boiling, and extremely impure. The islets of 
the river afford a low creeping vine, with a tolerably 
sweet red grape, supposed to have been propagated 
from those planted by the French at Fort Duquesne, 
the seeds of which might have been brought hither 
by the bears, v/ho are fond of grapes ; but the liquor 
of this species differs little from that of the indigenous 
vine, v/hich climbs trees sixty feet high, and bears a 
small, hard, and black grape. Swine have been of 
great use to them^ and they have learned to cure the 
meat so well, that, in this journey, I consumed a 
whole ham, which had only been well smoked, but 
which I supposed to have been boiled. Some, with 
reason, prefer them in this state, for the lean part, 
when not too much salted, or when soaked in water, 
is confessed to be more wholesome, in hot climates, 
than beef. 

Such is the condition of the Scioto colony, which 
does not altogether realize the pictures of the inland 
paradise given by American farmers, nor the glories 
of the future capital of the Ohio and its realms, pre- 
dicted by a certain writer. If such encomiasts could 
hear their praises as they are rehearsed on the spot, 



329 

they would grow disgusted with that trite, idle, and 
iniiated rhetoric, which has condemned five hundred 
meritorious families to hardship and misery. 

Throughout America I have heard Frenchmen bit- 
terly complaining of their treatment. It must, hov/- 
ever, be acknov.ledgcd, that their calamity may be, 
in Some degi"ee, ascribed to their own infatuation and 
temerity, which refused to take warning by the cau- 
tions or sufferings of others ; that their deceivers did 
not debar them from the means of better informa- 
tion ; and that their credulity swallowed manifest 
chimeras and impossibilities. When it is added, 
that, even since my return, there have been adven- 
turers who shut their ears and their eyes against con- 
viction, and assiduously avoid hearing the truth, we 
must confess that such rashness and credulity almost 
necessarily give birth to the arts of mercenary specu- 
lators*. 

I wished to leave this settlement witli a persuasion 
that they were doing well and would prosper : but, 

* To resist the arguments or authority of Volney seems, in this 
place, to warrant, in his opinion, the sufferings that overwhelm 
the poor deluded emigrant. The desire of bettering oiu' condi- 
tion, and the confidence inspired by plausible deceivers, whose 
council coincides with our own wishes, is an ample apology^ for 
the credulity or obstinacy here complained ot^ Nothing less than 
a miracle could arm the inexperienced mind of a Paris sliopkeeper 
against the delusions that were practised upon him. The dreams 
of the Scioto colonists were some of them even ludicrously ex- 
travagant, and yet the dreamers themselves Averc some of iheiu 
people of capacity and education — ThaIvS. 

2 T 



330 

besides the ofriginal and incurable error in the choice 
of situation, I am afraid that their despondency will 
never be entirely removed, since there will always be 
some cause for it, .and since the French nation are less 
qualified for settling- a new country than the emigrants 
from England, Ireland, or Germany. Among fifteen 
instances of farms, cultivated or formed by French- 
men, which were mentioned to me in America, only 
two or three were likely to thrive. As to collecting 
men in villages, such as Gallipolis, those that have 
been formed on the frontiers of Loui^;iana or Canada, 
and have been left to shift for themselves, have gene- 
rally dwindled, and sooner or later disappeared ; while 
plain men, from the British isles or Germany, v.ho 
have pierced the heart of the forest with their families 
only, and even ventured alone into the Indian terri- 
tory, have generally made good their footing, and 
have prospered and multiplied. 

An example of this truth is to be found in the his- 
tory of the French settlement at Vincenncs, on the 
Wabash, which I visited after leaving Gallipolis. I 
was prompted to more careful observations at this 
place, because I not only feft a general interest in the 
welfai'e of these my countrymen, but was anxious 
to know what kind of asylum these regions were 
adaptedto afford to those natives of France who might 
hereafter be inclined or obliged to take refuge in 
them. 



331 



No. V. 



Of the French Colonies on the Wabanh^ the Misaissipfii^ and 
Lake Erie. 

HAVING descended the Ohio, by Preston, 
Washington^, Charleston (Kentuck}), and Cincin- 
nati, I arrived at Louisville, about 350 miles from 
Gallipolis. Through this vast extent of country, I 
scarcely met with five infant villages, and eight farms. 
Louisville (Kentucky) has about a hundred houses, 
and is two miles above the falls, more properly the 
rapids^ of the Ohio, which I passed over in a boat. 
I waited here eight hours, till a caravan was collected 
of four or five horsemen, necessary to travel upwards 
of 100 miles of woods and meadows, so desart as not 
to contain a solitary hut. 

* There are above sixty places in the United States that bear 
the name of Washington. There are also a dozen Charlestons. 
Indeed, the geographical denominations of this country aic bor- 
rowed from proper names, or from those of Europe, because the 
settlers are naturally fond of giving to their new abode the name 
of their native spot. And thus America has become a kind of 
second, though, as yet, by no means an improved, edition of Eu- 
rope, especially of England and Germany. This circumstance 
Avill be more conspicuous a century hence. 



After a hasty march of three da)'s, we reached (Au- 
gust 2, 1796) Vincennes, on the Wabash. The e3'e 
is at first presented with an irregular savannah, eight 
miles in length by three in breadth, skirted by eter- 
nal forests, and sprinkled with a few trees, and abun- 
dance of umbelliferous plants, three or four feet high. 
Maize, tobacco, wheat, barley, squashes, and even 
cotton, grow in th^ fields around the village, which 
contains about fiiH^ houses, whose cheerful white re- 
lieves the-eyt"^ after the tedious dusk and green of 
the woods. -' 

These houses are placed along the left bank of the 
Wabash, here about two hundred feet wide, and fall- 
ing, when the waters are low, twenty feet below the 
scite of the town. The bank of the river is sloping 
towards the savannah, which is a few feet lower : this 
slope is occasioned by the periodical floods. Each 
house, as is customary in Canada, stands alone, and 
is surrounded by a court and garden, fenced with 
poles. I was delighted by the sight of peach trees 
loaded with fruit, but was sorry to notice the thorn 
apple, which is found in all the cultivated places from 
j^evond Gallipolis. Adjoining the village and river 
is a space, enclosed by a ditch eight feet wide, and 
by sharp stakes six feet high. This is called the fort, 
r.nd is a sufucient safeguard against surprises from 
Indians. 

I had letters to a principal man of the place, by 
birtii a Dutchman, but who spoke good French. I 
^jy^as accommodated at his house, in the kindest and 



I 



most hospitable manner, for ten days. The day after 
Itiy arrival a court was held, to which I repaired, to 
make my remarks on the scene. On entering, I was ^ 
surprised to observe the audience divided into races 
of men, in person and feature widely differing from 
each other. The fair or light brown hair, ruddy- 
complexion, round face, and plump body, indicative 
of health and ease, of one set, were forcibly contrasted 
with the emaciated frame, and meagre tawny visage 
of the other : the dress, likewise, of the latter denoted 
their indigence. I soon discovered that the former 
were new settlers from the neighbouring states, whose 
lands had been reclaimed five or six years before, 
while the latter were French, of sixty years standing 
in the district. The latter, three or four excepted, 
l^new notliing^ of I^nglish, while the former were al- 
most as ignorant of French. I had acquired, in the 
course of a year, a sufficient knowledge of English to 
converse with them, and was thus enabled to hear the 
tales of both parties. 

The French, in a querulous tone, recounted the 
losses and hardships they had suffered, especially since 
the last Indian war, in 1788. Between that period 
and the peace of 1763, when England obtained Ca- 
nada, and Spain Louisiana, they enjoyed tranquillity 
and happiness, under the protection of Spain. Un- 
molested and sequestered in the heart of the wilder- 
ness, fifty leagues from the nearest post on the Mis- 
sissippi, without taxes, and in friendship with the 
Indians, they passed their lives in hunting, fishing, 



334, 

trading in furs, and raising a few esculents and a little 
corn for their families. Many of them had 'inter- 
married with the Indians, whose amity was by these 
ties secured and strengthened, and their numbers 
amounted to three hundred persons. 

During the revolutionary war, their remote situa- 
tion exempted them from all its evils, till, in 1782, 
they were visited by a detachment from Kentucky, 
who plundered and insulted them, and killed or drove 
oft' the cattle which formed their chief Avcalth. 

The peace of 1783 gave them to the United States, 
undei- whose benign government they began to breathe 
again ; but unluckily an Indian war commenced in 
1788, and siding with the whites, as duty and dis- 
cretion enjoined, they were annoyed by the savages, 
whose animosity was embittered by the remembrance 
of their ancient friendship and alliance. Their cattle 
were killed, their village closely beset, and, for seve- 
ral years, they could not carry the plough or hoe a 
musket shot from their huts. 

Military service was added to their other hardships; 
but, in 1792, the compassion of the federal govern- 
ment gave four hundred acres of land to every one 
who paid the capitation, and a hundred more to every 
one who served in the militia. This domain, so 
ample to a diligent husbandman, was of little value 
to the hunting Frenchmen, who soon bartered away 
their invaluable ground for about 30 cents an acre, 
which v/as paid to them in goods, on which an exor- 
bitant profit was charged. This land was of the best 



335 

quality; it sold, as early as 1796, at two dollars an 
acre, and I may venture to say is now worth at least 
ten. Thus, for the most part, reduced again to their 
gardens, or the little homestead which was indispen- 
sable to their subsistence, they had nothing to live 
on but their fruit, potatoes, maize, and now and then 
a little game ; and, on this fare, no wonder they be- 
came as lean as Arabs"'^. 

They complain that they v/ere cheated and rob- 
bed, and especially that their rights were continu- 
ally violated by the courts, in which two judges only 
out of five were Frenchmen, who knew little of the 
laws or language of the English. Their ignorance, 
indeed, was profound. Nobody ever opened a school 
among them, till it was done by the abbe R. a polite, 
well educated, and liberal minded missionary, banish- 
ed hither by the French revolution. Out of nine of 
the French, scarcely six could read or write, whereas 
nine- tenths of the Americans, or emigrants from the 
east, could do both. Their dialect is by no means, 
as I had been previously assured, a vulgar or provin- 
cial brogue^ but pretty good French, intermixed with 
many military terms and phrases, all these settlements 
having been originally made by soldiers. The pri- 
mitive stock of Canada was the regiment of Carignon. 

* This implies that hunger or spare diet makes them lean, but 
this is evidently absurd. They cannot want plenty of the best 
food, and are probably greater eaters than their sleek and jolly 
neighbours. Their thinness ravist be owing to their constitution 
or their activity. — Trans. 



I could not fix with accuracy the date of the first set- 
tlement of Vincennes ; and, notwithstanding the ho- 
mage paid by some learned men to tradition, I could 
trace out but few events of the war of 1757, though 
some of the old men lived before that period. I was 
only able to form a conjecture that it was planted 
about 1735. 

These statements were confirmed, for the most 
part, by the new settlers. They only placed the 
same facts in a different point of view. They told 
me that the Canadians, for by that name the French 
of the western colonies are knowai among them, had 
only themselves to blame for all the hardships they 
complained of. We must allow, say they, that they 
are a kind, hospitable, sociable set, but then for idle- 
ness and ignorance, they beat the Indians themselves. 
They know nothing at all of civil or domestic affairs : 
their women neither sow, nor spin, nor make butter, 
but pass their time in gossipping and tattle, while all 
at home is dirt and disorder. The men take to no- 
thing but hunting, fishing, roaming the woods, and 
loitering in the sun. They do not lay up, as we do, 
for winter, or provide for a rainy day. They cannot 
cure pork or venison, make sour crout or spruce beer, 
or distil spirits from apples or rye, all needful arts to 
the farmer. If they trade, they try by exorbitant 
charges to make much out of a little ; for little is ge- 
nerally their all^ and what they get they throw away 
upon the Indian girls, in toys and baubles. Their 



537 

time is wasted too in triflingstories of their insignificant 
adventures, and journies to town to see their friends*. 

When the peace of 1793 incorporated them with 
the United States, their first demand was a command- 
ing officer, and hard it was to make them comprehend 
the nature of elective or municipal government. — 
Even now they have nobody fit to govern the rest. 
They will not learn English, and it is not worth while 
for us to learn the language of eighty or ninety peo- 
ple, who may leave us to-morrow for Louisiana. In- 
deed they would be wise in doing so, for their indo- 
lence \\ ill never be a match for our industry. 

From all accounts, the state of things is similar to 
this in the Illinois and Upper Louisiana. Apathy, 
indolence, and poverty equally prevail among the 
French settlers at Kaskaskias, Cahokias, Rocky 
Meadows, St. Lewis, &c. These qualities they in. 
some degree derive from the nature of their govern- 
ment. This, both with French and Spanish, is 
purely military, the commander being a mere aga, 
who grants and takes back at pleasure all the liberties 
of trade, foreign and domestic. All commerce and 
property hang upon his will and caprice, and, to en- 
rich a few favourites or relatives, the rest are con- 
demned to poverty and misery. It is a perfect Turk- 
ish government, except that it is not, as formerly, 
sanguinary or prone to punishment. 

* Thus they speak of New Orleans, as if it were a walk of half 
an hour, though it is fifteen hundred miles down the river. 

2 U 



338 

This state of things will, in some degree, be ac- 
counted for b}^ the situation of the first settlers, -vvho 
^^c^e either soldiers by profession, or made so by their 
frequent wars with their white and red neighbours. 
They were thus habituated to a life alternately active 
and idle, and made to prefer the slothful and precarious 
existence of the savage, to the steady habits and la- 
borious uniformity of the husbandman. Hence it is 
that, of late years, when the Americans* introduced 
themselves among them, their industry has quickly 
gained the superiority, and, in five or six years, they 

* The want of a peculiar geographical appellation, and their 
superiority in numbers and importance to every other nation, exotic 
or indigenous, of America, has given to the people of the United 
States the name of " Americans," among their neighbours and 
among Europeans. The largest or most important part is na- 
turally confounded with the vjhole^ and the name of the latter be- 
stowed upon the former. Instead of regretting this circumstance, 
as some ingenious men have done, I think it rather a cause of 
pride and exultation. We should exult in the pre-erpinence 
which this custom tacitly allows us, and ardently anticipate the 
period, when the extension of our empire will make the national 
appellation oi Amcricaris a strictly geographical and precise one. 
The complaint of present ambiguity in this term seems to be 
without foundation ; for though the whole continent is called 
America, and the proper name of its inhabitants, therefore, Ame- 
ricans, the occasion on which these words are used always tho- 
roughly explains the sense, either wide or narrow, in which they 
are designed to be taken. There are very few words which have 
not several acceptations, but they are used without the least dan- 
ger of ambiguity. One of these words is Jiap.er^ which has a 
greater number of meanings than almost any other word, and is 
sometimes comprehensive and sometimes limited. " My paper" 



339 

have become almost the sole proprietors. The French 
colonists, reduced to distress, have sold their lands for 
a trifle, as at Vincennes, and so rapidly '^vere they 
supplanted, that, in 1796, almost all the district of 
Kaskaskias belonged to the house of E., and that of 
V. owned, in other places, 60,000 acres of land. 

On the west side of the Mississippi the Spaniards, 
to augment the value of their lands, granted them to 
such emigrants from the United States as would natu- 
ralize themselves, and, in consequence, the old French 
settlers have been quite supplanted by the new comers, 
in trade and agriculture, and, gradually vanishing be- 
fore them, retire into Canada or Lower Louisiana. 
Two of my fellow travellers, in Kentucky, were emi- 
grating to the Missouri. They told me that upwards 
of eight hundred of their countrymen were already 
fixed in the country ; and if lands continued to be 
granted in fee ^ three or four thousand families would 
hasten thither from Kentucky, wher.e land was grown 
dear, and titles Mere doubtful. 

I intended to bear them company as far as St. 
Lewis, 180 miles from Vincennes, but accidents pre- 
vented my journey, I was obliged to trust to the evi- 
dence of many who travelled through this country this 
and the four preceding years. According to their re- 
is a simple phrase, but is perfectly understood, always in a sense 
peculiar to each, when uttt^red by a paper-maker, a merchant, a 
gazette printer, or an upholsterer.— Trans. 



340 

presentations, from Vineennesto Kas f Kashaskias^ J 
is a journey of forty-three hours, computed by Ar- 
rowsmith at 160 miles. 

The steps in this journey are detailed in the fol- 
lowing table : 

Road from Fort Fincennes to Kaskaskias, 

Miles. Hours. 
To Ombra creek 
To the Elm in the meadow 
To Cat river 
To the Yoke 
To the Salt spring 
To the Slave's gibbet 
To Great Point 
To the Coffee-pot 
To the Yellow bark 
To Walnut point 

Beyond this is a beaver dam, destroyed. 
At a cross road you take the left, which 
is shortest. There is no water for fifteen 
miles, and you fall into the main road at 
Pointe aux F esses. 
To the Dam 



9 


2 


131 


3 


13i 


3 


15 


3 


6 


U 


15 


3 


15 


2i 


12 


2 


15 


3 


15 


2i 



Carried forward 133| 26i 

* This useful licence, in cutting off the superfluous syllables of 
long names, has many examples in America, besides the above : 
as Makinaw for Machillimachinach, and Ty for Ticonderoga.— 
Thans. 



341 



Brought forward 



Miles. 


Hours. 


1331 


26i 


12 


2 


15 


3 


15 


3 


15 


3 


12 


2 


18 


4 



To the three-thorned Acacia 

To Pointe aux Fesses 

To the Meadow of the Hole 

To the Great Rib 

To Lepronier 

To Kas 



Totals 220i 43^ 

Beyond Ombra we enter a Tartarian meadow, in- 
terspersed with clumps of trees, but in general flat 
and naked, and \^indy and cold in winter. In sum- 
mer it is filled with tall and strong shrubs, which 
brush the legs of the rider in his narrow path so 
much, that a journey out and back will wear out a 
pair of boots. Water is scarce, and there is danger 
of being bewildered, as happened to one of my fellow 
travellers, three years before, when, with two others, 
he roamed about for seventeen days. Thunder, rain, 
gnats, and horseflies, are very troublesome in summer. 
Five years ago, you could not fail of meeting, in these 
meadows, with herds of four or five hundred buffa- 
loes, but now there are none. The hunters and the 
bells of the tanie cattle have driven them beyond the 
Mississippi, which they crossed by swimming. 

At the end of these meadows, near the Mississippi, 
is the district of Kas. The village is seated in a 
close sultry valley. It has dwindled so much, that 



542 

scarcely twelve Canadian families are left ; yet, in 
1764, Bouquet counted 400 inhabitants. On the 
opposite side of the river was formerly the large vil- 
lage of St. Genevieve, noted for a salt spring ; but 
the annual floods have swept it away,* and t\\€ peo- 
ple have retired to the upland, two miles oft", where 
each one occupies a board house on his own land. 
Twelve or thirteen miles above, on the same side 
with Kas, was Fort Chartres, built of stone, with 
vmusual magnificence. This has also been destroyed 
by the river, which has already undermined a bastion 
of New Madrid, which v.as founded in 1791, oppo- 
site the mouth of the Ohio, and 600 feet from the 
Mississippi. A great part of this fort will probably 
be washed away by the next floods. 

The magnificent Mississippi, decorated by Mr. 
B. with all the charms of a land of promise, is a most 
mischievous neighbour. It rolls alonar, a mass of yel- 
low muddy water, a mile and a half wide, which it an- 
.iiually lifts twenty or twenty-five feet above its banks, 
and deluges with it a loose soil of sand and clay ; 
forms islands and destroys them ; throws trees upon 
one side, and uproots them on the other ; submitting 
its course to obstructions of its own creating ; and at 
length overwhelms the spot which you thought the 
iTiost secure. The sublimity of this stream is like 
that of most other grand agents in nature, to be ad- 
mired safely only at a great distance. 

This is not all : its damp and sultry precincts, in 
summer and atitumn, engender obstinate fevers. 



343 

Such Is the situation of Rocky Meadows, a village of 
ten families ; of Cahokia, or Caho, which has about 
forty, instead of twice that number, who dwelt there 
in 1790. Opposite Caho, on the west bank, is St. 
Lewis, or Pancore, a compact town of seventy houses, 
with a well-looking but useless stone fort, spreading 
over two acres, with half a dozen wealthy families, 
five hundred poor, idle, and sickly whites, and a few 
blacks, the property of the rich, who treat them w^ell. 
The Spanish code is more lenient and benignant to- 
ward the negroes, than the colonial system of any 
other nation. This, however, did not prevent an in- 
surrection in Lower Louioiana, in 1791. In conse- 
quence of this, all the whites in Upper Louisiana were 
numbered and enrolled, and found to amount to five 
hundred. Colonel Sergeant, a man of talents, and 
high in office in the North-western Territory, who, 
in 1790, inspected the settlements in the Illinois, as- 
sured me, that the French families did not exceed a 
hundred and fifty. The w hole population of what is 
called Upper Louisiana may, therefore, be reckoned 
at twenty-five hundred, including seven hundred capa- 
ble of bearing arms. 

These accounts differ, it is plain, very widely from 
those that have lately circulated at Paris, where this 
country was described as on the eve of bursting into 
a mighty empire : but my statements are received 
from witnesses upon the spot, who had no interest to 
mislead them, or induce them to mislead others, and 
I publish them with candour, and without any desire 



344 

of preventing others from examining for themselves. 
I am too well satisfied with this conduct to relinquish 
it*. 

I have bestowed much reflection on the causes of 
the great decay of the French settlements in North 
America, for even in Canada their progress, if com- 
pared with that of the Americans, is a sort of decayf. 
It must not be admitted, as is maintained by some, 
that the French cannot bear the climate so well as 
their neighbours. The experience of Rochambeau's 
army proved that the French were more able to sus- 
tain cold, heat, hardship, and vicissitude than their 
allies. It seems to me that our fibre is more vital 
and elastic ; and this natural advantage is improved 
by our more wholesome regimen. Besides their 
erroneous diet, as mentioned before, the Americans 
are scarcely less addicted to liquor than the savages ; 
and in Wayne's army it was remarked, that the water 
drinkers held out better than the drinkers of spirits ; 
and as to the Indians, spirits are well known to kill 
them faster than even war or the small-pox. 

This difference no doubt proceeds from the differ- 
ence in the means by which each pursues his end, 
and in the employment of their time : in other words, 

* In 1799, the population of Upper Lpuisiana amounted to 
6028 Trans. 

t At Detroit this national character is evident, for most of the 
Prench people told me, when I was there, that they were going 
into the British territory, rather than submit to the troublesome 
republican forms of the United States. 



345 

it resolves itself into a difference in what is called 
habit or national character. This originates in edu- 
cation and in government, either of which does more 
than the }Dhysical constitution or temperament. This 
will clearly appear on comparing the two nations in 
their ordinary life and conduct. 

The settler, of British or German descent, is of a 
cold and phlegmatic temper, and deliberately forms a 
plan of husbandry, which he steadily pursues. He 
attends sedulously to every thins; that can influence 
the success of his projects. He never becomes idle, 
till his end is accomplished, and he has put his affairs 
on a good footing. 

The impetuosity of the Frenchman leads him. to 
embrace precipitately any plausible or flattering pro- 
ject, and he proceeds in his career without labori- 
ously computing expences and contingencies. With 
more genius for his portion, he laughs at the dullness 
and cautions of his Dutch or English neighbour, 
whom he stigmatises as an ox : but his neighbour 
will sedately and wisely reply, that the patient ox will 
pfough much better than the mettlesome racer. And, 
in truth, the Frenchman's fire easily slackens : his 
patience is worn out ; and after changing, correcting, 
and altering his plans, he finally abandons his project 
in despair. 

His neighbour is in no haste to rise o' mornings, 
but when fairly up he applies steadily to work. At 
breakfast he gives cold and laconic orders to his wife, 
who obeys them without contradiction or deaiur. 

2x 



346 

Weather permitting, he goes to plough or chop ; if 
the weather be bad, he prosecutes his in-door tasks, 
looks over the contents of his house and granary, 
repairs his doors or windows, drives pegs or nails, 
makes chairs or tables, and is always busy in making 
his habitation more comfortable and secure. With 
these habits, he is nowise averse to sell his farm for 
a good price, and move, even in old age, still farther 
into the forest, cheerfully recommencing all the la- 
bours of a new settlement. There will he spend 
years in felling trees, building a hut and a barn, and 
in fencing and sowing his fields. His wife, as placid 
and patient as himself, will second all his labours, 
and they will sometimes pass away six months with- 
out seeing the face of a stranger. In four or five 
years, comfort, convenience, and ease will grow up 
around them, and a competence will recompense their 
solitary toils. 

The Frenchman, on the contrary, will be up be- 
times, for the pleasure of viewing and talking over 
matters with his A\ife, whose counsel he demands. 
Their constant agreement would be quite a miracle: 
the wife dissents, argues, wrangles, and the husband 
has his own way, or gives up to her, and is irritated 
or disheartened. Home, perhaps, grows irksome, so 
he takes his gun, goes a shooting or a journey, or to 
chat with a neighbour. If he stays at home, he either 
whiles away the hour in good-humoured talk, or he 
scolds and quarrels. Neighbours interchange visits: 
for to visit and talk are so necessary to a Frenchman, 



547 

that along the frontier of Canada and Louisiana there 
is no where a settler of that nation to be found, but 
within sight or reach of some other. On asking how 
far off the remotest settler v.as, I have been told, He 
is in the woods, widi the bears, a league from any 
house, and widi nobody to talk to. 

This temper is the most characteristic diiference 
bet^^ een ihe two nations ; and the more I reflect upon 
this svibjcct the firmer is my persuasion, that the 
Americans and the northern Europeans, from whom 
they are descended, chiefly owe their success in arts 
and commerce to their habitual taciturnity. In silence 
they collect, arrange, and digest their thoughts, and 
have leisure to calculate the future ; they acquire 
habits of clear thinking and accurate expression ; 
and hence there is more decision in their conduct, 
both in public and domestic exigences, and they at 
once see the way to their point more clearly, and pur- 
sue it more directly. 

On the contrary, the Frenchman's ideas evaporate 
in ceaseless chat ; he exposes himself to bickering 
and contradiction ; excites the garrulity of his wife 
and sisters ; involves himself in quarrels with his 
neighbours ; and finds, in the end, that his life has 
been squandered away without use or benefit. 

These distinctions may be thought trivial ; but 
they are connected with the employment of time, and 
time, as Franklin says, is the fleece from which is spun 
the thread of life. These habits must inevitably tend 
to make men superficial and thoughtless. I have often 



348 

questioned the Canadians of the frontier as to distances 
of time or place, or measures of capacity or magnitude, 
and have found their notions crude and obscure. They 
appear to feel and sec without reflection, and are un- 
equal to any calculation, in any degree complex. 
They would say, from this place to that is one or two 
pipes of tobacco ; you can or cannot reach it by sun- 
set, and the like. But an American settler will state 
exactly the distance in miles or hours, and the weight 
or magnitude in pounds, gallons, or yards, and is 
capable of entering into calculations and forming esti- 
mates. This practical skill is productive of impor- 
tant effects in human life, and my readers may be 
surprised to hear, what nevertheless is true, that, even 
in Europe, it is much less common among the French 
than we imagine. 

I have often heard this gossipping and tattling dis- 
position ascribed to warmth of blood, and briskness 
of flow in the animal spirits ; but I should rather 
judge it to be the mere effect of artificial habits and 
opinions : for going into the east a talkative and lively 
Frenchman, I returned, in three years, as demure as a 
Turk. A short stay in France restored my old habits ; 
but a few months abode in the United States gave 
me back my oriental taciturnity, which, in like man- 
ner, after my return to Paris, quickly yielded to the 
sprightly influence of my native air. 

These habits owe much of their force to fashion. 
Among the Turks and Americans, to talk much is a 
mark of ill-breeding and vulgarity, while, with us, 



349 

silence is a token of pride or sullenness : to talk 
evinces wit and politeness, and to let the conversa- 
tion drop or droop is a proof of wanting one or the 
other*. 

The same prejudice it is, the offspring of fashion 
or education, which inclines the French to blame the 
readiness of the American to quit his natal spot and 
ancient patrimony, and fix himself in a new region. 
There is certainly no crime in leaving a place, when 
our condition, as we think, can be bettered by a 
change : but this view of things, if carefully consi- 
dered, will be found to have been propagated by the 
rulers, and fostered by the laws of nations in political 
slavery. To chain men to the soil was always the 
labour of tyrannical governments, afraid lest their 
victim should escape, them. Now the original motive 
of the Americans, in leaving Europe, was to break 
their civil and religious fetters, and we need not be 
surprised that emigration has become a habit with 
them, and possesses, in their eyes, the charms which 
attend an act of liberty. Be this as it may, this spirit 
will more advance the civilization of the fjlobe than 
that of a sedentary people, who would rather spend 

* This criterion of wit and politeness seems to prevail every- 
where. To keep up a constant and lively conversation is as much 
desired on one side of the ocean as the other, but loquacity im- 
plies the impulse of impertinence and vanity, and is only charged 
upon those who, in company, talk more than their share.-— 
Trans. 



their lives in wars or idleness at home, than form use- 
ful and splendid settlements abroad. 

I might, perhaps, not improperl}^ embrace this 
opportunity of tracing to their true causes the taci- 
turnity of the one nation, and the reserve of the other. 
I might enquire if any connection subsists between 
a dark and misty sky, and a grave and serious de- 
meanour ; or whether a clear air and brilliant sun 
does not stimulate to gaiety, by augmenting the elec- 
tric fluid, which fills and animates the nerves; and whe- 
ther cold and wet do not make us splenetic, by a direct 
but inverse action on the nerves and viscera. But 
since the enquiry is extremely complex ; since the 
natives of some southern regions, like the Hindoos, 
Turks, and Spaniards, are as demure and taciturn as 
some northern nations ; since we must enquire why, 
even in England, the people of bustling cities are as 
talkative as Frenchmen ; since Me ourselves are said 
to have lost somewhat of our vivacity ; since women, 
in all countries, are more garrulous than men, and 
slaves more than denizens ; since it would be first 
necessary to settle the meaning of the word nation ; 
to examine whether a peculiar character does not 
cleave to every class and profession ; and to decide 
whether what we call the national character be any 
thing more than the habits of the highest or ruling 
class ; I shall forbear to enter on such abstruse to- 
pics. I mu:st, however, observe, that the principles 
rashly embraced by most political writers are at war 



351 

with experience ; that climate and constitution, when 
most powerful, are causes but subordinate to laws 
and government, which are able to new-mould our 
habits, change our conduct, and introduce a total re- 
volution in the character of nations. 

An instance to this purpose may, I think, be found 
in the manners of the settlers at Gallipolis and Vin- 
cennes. Between these there is a difference, which 
clearly shows that the subjects of Louis XIV and 
Louis XV were far inferior to the present generation 
in knowledge and industry. The latter, since 1771, 
have received impressions, and acquired motives of 
activity, unknown to their ancestors. I have greatly 
regretted that the Scioto colony, whose members 
were sober and industrious, were not guided at first 
to the Wabash or the Mississippi. By adding their 
numbers and substance to those of the ancient set- 
tlers, a body might have been formed capable of de- 
Jfending itself both against ivhhes and reds^ the savage 
on one side, and the land jobber on the other, and 
might have formed a central point for other emigrants 
to collect around, other Frenchmen who wished to 
transmit to their posterity the inheritance of liberty 
and peace. 



;52 



No. VI. 



On the Indians or Suvciffes* oy A'ort/i Jlnierica. 

MY stay at Vincennes afforded me some 
knowledge of the Indians, who were there assembled 
to barter away the produce of their red hunt. There 
were four or five hundred of them, men, women, and 
children, of various tribes, as the Weeaws, Payories, 
Sawkies, Pyankishaws, and Miamis, all living near 
the head of the Wabash. This was the first oppor- 
tunity I had of observing, at my leisure, a people who 

* The Americans, after the example of the English, call the 
ravages Indians. The former term is preferable, because it is ab- 
surd to i^ive the name, proper to the great Hindoo peninsula, first 
to South and then to North America. It was the mistake of an 
early Portuguese navigator, who, in his voyage to India, wandered 
so far to the west, as to light upon tlie coast of Brazil, which he 
consoled himself by naming the West Indies. — 'V. The 

French sauvage answers, iirst, to the English savage, which is ap- 
plied to persons or actions which we want to stigmatize as wicked 
and cruel, and is given to men in the rudest state of society, only 
when we allude to their ignorance or ferocity ; and, secondly, to 
Indian, which, however derived, is become the/-' rc//'("r 7/aw^ of the 
aboriginal tril>e:i of America. To use the term savage as a na- 
tioiiul appelkttiuii would be bad English. — Tkans. 



353 

have already become rare east of the Allegheny. It 
was, to me, a new and most whimsical sight. Bo- 
dies almost naked, tanned by the sun and air, shining 
with grease and soot ; head uncovered ; hair coarse, 
black, and straight ; a face smeared with red, blue, 
and black paint, in patches of all forms and sizes ; 
one nostril bored to admit a ring of silver or copper ; 
ear-rings, with three rows of drops, down to the 
shoulders, and passing through holes that would ad- 
mit a finger ; a little square apron before, and another 
behind, fastened by the same string ; the legs and 
thighs sometimes bare, and sometimes covered with 
cloth hose ; socks of smoke-dried leather ; sometimes 
a shirt, with short loose sleeves, and flowing loosely 
on the thighs, of variegated or striped cloth ; over 
this a blanket, or a square piece of cloth, drawn over 
over one shoulder, and fastened under the other, or 
ynder the chin. On solemn occasions, or for war, 
their hair is braided with flowers, feathers, or bones. 
The warriors have their wrists adorned with broad 
metal rings, like our dog collars, and a circle round 
their heads, of buckles or beads. They carry in their 
hand a pipe, knife or tomahawk, and a little looking- 
glass, which they examine Avith as much attention and 
complacency as any European coquet. The females 
are a little more covered about the loins. They carry 
one or two children behind them in a sort of bag, the 
ends of which are tied upon their forehead. In this 
respect they have a strong resemblance to our gypsies, 

2 Y 



354 

The men and women roamed all day about the 
town, merely to get rum, for which they eagerly ex- 
changed their peltry, their toys, their clothes, and at 
length, Avhen they had parted with their ail, they 
offered their prayers and entreaties, never ceasing to 
drink till they had lost their senses. Hence arise 
ridiculous scenes. They will hold the cup with both 
hands, like monkies, burst into unmeaning laughter, 
and gargle their beloved cup, to enjoy the taste of 
it the longer ; hand about the liquor with clamorous 
invitations, bav/1 aloud at each other, though close 
together, seize their wives, and pour the liquor down 
their throats, and, in short, display all the freaks of 
vn'.'/ar drunkenness. Sometimes tragical scenes en- 
sue : they become mad or stupid, and failing in the 
dust or mud, lie a senseless log till next day. We 
found them in the streets by dozens in the morning, 
wallowing in the filth with the pigs. It was rare for 
a day to pass without a deadly quarrel, by which 
about ten men lose their lives yearly. A savage once 
stabbed his wife, in four places, with a knife, a few 
paces from me. A similar event took place a fort- 
night before, and five such the preceding year. For 
this, vengeance is either immediately taken, or de- 
ferred to a future opportimity by the relations of the 
slain, which affords fresh cause for bloodshed and 
treachery. I at first conceived the design of spending 
a few months among them, as I had done among the 
Bedwins ; but I was satisfied with this sample, and 



those the best acquainted with them assured me, that 
there was no Arabian hospitality among them : that 
all was anarchy and disorder. The greatest chief 
could not strike or punish the meanest warrior, even 
in the field, and at home nobody obeyed him but his 
own wife and children. They dwell separately, in mis- 
trust, jealousy, and eternal animosity. With them, 
what they want they have a righc to, and what they 
have strength enough to seize is their own. Be- 
sides, as they scarcely made provision for themselves, 
a stranger would run the risk of being starved. 

I chiefly regretted, on abandoning my scheme, the 
loss of an opportunity for gaining some knowledge 
of their language, and forming a vocabulary : a 
scheme the importance of which, with respect to a 
people who want all other monuments, I have else- 
where insisted on*. The missionary R., whom I 
have already mentioned, having failed in all his ef- 
forts to this purpose, left me no hopes of succeeding. 
Some of the people of Vincennes are acquainted with 
the Indian dialects, but their pronunciation is so bad, 
and their ignorance of all grammatical distinctions so 
great, that they could afford him no aid. This more 
clearly appeared, when a chief of the Weeaws, an old 
and fast friend of the French, sought a conference 
with me : we could never get the Canadian interpre- 
ter to translate literally. 

* See my Lectures upon History, lecture V. 



356 

The only person in America capable of giving me 
the aid I wanted was a man by the name of Wells, 
who had been made captive by the Indians at thirteen 
years of age, and, having previously had a good edu- 
cation, he acquired an accurate knowledge of many 
of their dialects, while he lived among them. After 
the victories of Wayne, in 1794, he obtained leave to 
return home, and was at this time acting as interpre- 
ter to the general, who was negociating at Detroit 
with more than seven hundred Indians. 

This agreed with my plan of visiting Niagara. — 
I accordingly returned to Louisville, and passed 
through Frankfort, the capital of Kentucky, and Lex- 
ington, where, in 1782, not a house was to be seen, 
but which now contained near five hundred habita- 
tions, well built of brick. Thence I went to Cincin- 
nati, and availed myself of a military convoy going to 
Detroit, through the kindness of major Swan, by a road 
formed by the army over two hundred and fifty miles 
of forest. Five pallisaded forts, neatly constructed, 
were the only stages in this journey. There I met 
with a most flattering reception from the commander 
in chief. The country and the season deprived me 
of the benefits I hoped from this reception, for I was 
disabled by a severe fever. 

I was obliged to seize the only opportunity that 
offered for crossing the lake before winter, and return 
to Philadelphia, where fortunately Mr. Wells arrived, 
in company with a noted Miami chief, called Mishi- 
kinakwa, or the Little Turtle. It was he who con- 



357 

tributed most to the defeat of St. Clair, and well-in- 
formed officers have assured me, that had his plan of 
waylaying stragglers, and cutting off convoys, been 
followed, Wayne's army would probably have shared 
the same fate. This hero, convinced at length that 
all opposition was fruitless, had the wisdom to per- 
suade his tribe to peaceable measures. His good 
sense perceived the necessity of turning the attention 
of his people from hunting and fishing to tillage, and 
he came to Philadelphia Avith a view of obtaining the 
assistance of the government, and the benevolent 
society of friends*, to his laudable intentions. He 
had been inoculated for the small-pox since his arri- 

* Commonly called quakers : a sect which has, perhaps, been 
too much applauded in Europe, and too little in America, on ac- 
count of the blacks, but which, impartially considered, is, in its 
theoretical and practical morality, more favourable than any other 
to the happiness of mankind. Every plan of public charity or re- 
formation in Pennsylvania is its work, and nothing seems want- 
ing to make it the church of all reasonable people, but the intro- 
duction of the physical sciences into their seminaries of education. 
How can the truly devout condemn as profane the study of the 
works of God ? — V. The quakers pay due respect to the 

physical and mathematical sciences, and consequently the requi- 
site here mentioned is not wanting. They even admit the study 
of ancient and modern languages and literature into their schools; 
and, with regard to the various branches of liberal pursuit, they 
object to nothing but what is chiel^y or solely conducive to the 
amusement of the senses, as music, dancing, and the like. They 
deem the human character truly adorned and ennobled by skill in 
natural philosophy and history, and the sciences properly ss 
called. — Trans. 



358 

val. He had both gout and rheumatism, for which 
the government had eagerly provided him medical 
aid. 

By this accident I was furnished not only with a 
skilful interpreter, but with the mouth of a native to 
affbrd the true primitive words : for I soon made 
myself acquainted \v'ith Mr. Wells and the chief. 
They readily concurred with my wishes, and nine or 
ten visits, in January and February, 1798, enabled 
me to draw up the vocabulary annexed. This was 
my principal purpose, but the course of conversation 
afforded me many hints and facts, the more to be 
relied upon, because they were given accidentally, 
and without design ; and my being a Frenchman, 
added to the familiarity of so many interviews, less- 
ened that suspicion and distrust which these, people 
are apt to entertain of strangers. After each visit I 
put upon paper what appeared to me worth nc ting, 
and these hints, together with such as I was able to 
collect from other respectable quarters, form the sub- 
stance of the following pages. 

I am neither able nor willing to treat of savage na- 
tions in general. There is such a difference, in charac- 
ter and manners, between the savages of hot climates 
and of cold, open and wood land, sterile and fruitful, 
wet or dry, that the theme would be too extensive. 
I shall merely speak of the aborigines of North Ame- 
rica, and desire only to contribute my testimony to- 
wards clearing up a subject so much obscured by 
paradox and misrepresentation. The reader, I pre- 



359 

sume, is not wholly unacquainted with those travel- 
lers who have visited and described this people within 
the last forty years*. 

I first conversed with them on the climate and soil 
of the Miamis. Mr. Wells informed me, that this 
tribe dwelt on the upper branches of the Wabash : 
that its language is spoken by all the tribes of that 
river, nearly to Lake Michigan, as the Weeaws, 
Payories, Pyankishaws, Kaskaskias, and Long Isle 

* As Carver, whose travels, in 1768, have been well translated. 
This writer, though a little credulous and vain, and biassed, by 
their respect for him, in favour of the savages, seems, on the 
whole, to have been upright and sincere. His confession that he 
was unqualified for forming an Indian grammar and dictionary, 
leads me to suspect that his work was compiled by another, as 
was the case with a v/ell-known French traveller. 

Another traveller is John Long, twenty years a factor in the 
Canada fur trade. His book appeared in 179 1, and was translated 
into French in 1793. It is to be lamented that the translator has 
omitted the vocabulary. The entire work deserves republication, 
for I know of no picture so good of the Indians and traders. 

A third is Bernard Romans, of whom I have already said 
enough. 

A fourth is Umphraville, whom I have made known to my 
countrymen. 

Adair's book on the Creeks and Cherokees deserves not men- 
tion, because he has mixed with a few facts a great many misre- 
presentations and absurdities, to prove the Indians descended from 
the Jews. This groundless notion, which, however, is cherished 
by a great many missionaries, has led him to view every thing 
in a delusive light. Without sound notions of the nature of the 
human understanding, its progress, and the causes that mode! the 
man of nature, we are not fit to investigate the history of nations. 



560 

Indians : that its dialect is nearly allied to that of the 
Chippeways, Ottawas, and Shawanese, but quite dis- 
tinct from that of the Delawares. The Miamis make 
much use of the nasal sounds, and I almost imagined 
I heard the Turkish. Their country is divided be- 
tween forest and savannah, and is colder than Vin- 
cennes. After leaving a complete thaw in this 
country, Mr. Wells found the same snow 130 miles 
north, without any mountainous elevation of the sur- 
face. The air at Philadelphia was not so keen. 
Their winds resemble those on the sea coast. In 
winter they have clear weather, with a strong and cut- 
ting north-west ; in summer the south-west prevails, 
hot, wet, and sometimes tempestuous. The chief 
rains are brought by the south ; the north, in winter, 
brings snow, but, in summer, is fair and mild. The 
south-east is rare, and the north rarer. They have 
a good soil, with finer maize, and greater plenty of 
game, than are found east of the mountains. Hence 
it is that the natives are a stout, well-formed race. 
The same may be said of the Shawanese, the stature 
of whose Vv^omen astonished me more than their 
beauty. 

While talking with Wells, I was not inattentive to 
the chief. Not understanding English, he took no 
part in the conversation, but walked about, plucking 
out the hairs from his chin, and even from his eye- 
brows. He dressed in the American style ; in a blue 
suit, with round hat and pantaloons. I desired Mr. 
Wells to ask him Itow he liked his clothes. " At 



361 

first," said he, ** they confined my limbs unpleasandy ; 
but I have got used to them ; and as they defend me 
against the heat and the cold, I now like them well 
enough." Tucking up his sleeves, he showed me a 
skin, between the wrist and elbow, whose white- 
ness surprised me. It differed not at all from my 
own. M)^ hands were as much tanned as his, and 
we looked as we had a pair of gloves on. His skin 
was as soft and fair as a Parisian's. 

We talked a good deal about the colour of the Indi- 
ans. The copper or red hue is commonly supposed to 
be innate, and to discriminate this race, as black does 
the Africans ; but I gathered from these interviews, 
that, though they distinguish themselves by the name 
of red men, and justly pride themselves on this dis- 
tinction, yet they are born as white as we*, and con-- 
tinue so through infancy! , the copper hue being 
derived from exposure to the sun, and from the 
grease and juices with which they rub themselves. 
The women are always white about the middle, in 
those parts which are constantly covered. It is, 
therefore, far from true that the copper hue is innate 
to this people ; nor indeed is it universal : on the 
contrary, many tribes of North America have differ- 
ent shades, and their diversity, in this respect, is one 
of their means of distinguishing each other. 

* So is the negro, but he grows black in a few hours. 
t Oklmixon says the same. 

2 z 



362 

Mr. Wells, who had lived, in their fashion, fifteen 
years among them, had their complexion. The real 
colour appeared to be that of soot, or of smoked ham, 
clear and shining, exactly similar to that of the pea- 
sants of Lower Poitoii, who^ live like savages, in a 
hot, moist climate, or that of the Andalusians. 

On mentioning this to Little Turtle, he replied : 
*' That he had seen Spaniards in Louisiana, and saw 
no difference between their colour and his own. And 
why," said he, " should there be any ? In them and 
us the sun, the father of colours^ causes it by burning 
us. You yourselves see the difference between your 
faces and bodies." This reminded me that, when I 
quitted the turban, on leaving Turkey, half my fore- 
head resembled bronze, while the other half, above 
it, was as white as paper. ' If, as philosophers be- 
lieve, all colours flow from light, it is plain that the 
difference in human complexions is produced by the 
action of this fluid, in conjunction wdth some other, 
on the skin. It will one day be proved, that the 
sable hue of the negro arises from no other cause*. 

The features of the Little Turtle bore a strong re- 
semblance to those of some Chinese Tartars, who 
had been brought to Philadelphia by Van Braam, the 

* New facts, corroborating this conclusion, daily occur. One 
of these is the remarkable case of Henry Moss, a negro of Vir- 
ginia, descended in the third degree from natives of Congo, who, 
in the course of seven years, became white, with smooth brown 
hair, like any European. He is the same mentioned by Lian- 
court. 



363 

Dutch ambassador to Pekin. This likeness between 
the Indians and Tartars has struck all who have seen 
them both, but perhaps some have too hastily inferred 
that the former are originally from Asia. As Indians 
have some notions of geography, I explained this 
theory to the chief, and laid before him a map of the 
contiguous parts of Asia and America. He readily 
recognized the Canadian lakes, and the Ohio, Wa- 
bash, &c., and the rest he eyed with an eagerness 
that showed it was new to him : but it is a rule in 
Indian manners never to betray surprise. When I 
showed him the communication by Behring's Straits 
and the Aleutian isles, " Why," said he, " should 
not these Tartars, who are like us, have gone first 
from the American side ? Are there any proofs to 
the contrary ? Why should not their fathers and 
our's have been born in our country ?" The Indians, 
indeed, give themselves the name of Metoktheniaka 
fborn of the soil.) " I see no objection," said I : 
" but our black coats (the name given by the Indians 
to the missionaries) won't allow it. It is only diffi- 
cult to find out how any particular nation sprung up 
at the beginning." *' But that," he answered, " is 
as great a difficulty to the black coats as to us*." 

I have said that the Indians resemble the Asiatic 
Tartars ; but some exceptions must be made, for the 

* Volney never slips an opportunity of glancing at religion. 
If lie really knew of no argument, no proof, in favour of the prior 
settlement of the eastern continent, he must indeed be as ignorant 
as iiis savage acquaintance. — Trans. 



364 

Esquimeaux of the north, and the grey-eyed race, 
near Nootka Sound, are each a distinct race, with no 
Tartarean features. The Tartar face belongs only 
to those who people the middle and southern regions, 
and who form a vast majority. This face is not that 
of the Calmucks, whose flattened face and nose are not 
found among them. In general, the Indian face is tri- 
angular at the lower part, and square at the upper; has 
a well-shaped forehead ; eyes black, deep set, small 
and lively ; cheeks somewhat prominent ; a straight 
nose, and thick lips ; their hair is universally black, 
coarse, and straight; tlieir look is watchful, suspici- 
ous, and ferocious. 

Such is the national physiognomy, but it is varied 
ill the tribe and individual. At Vincennes and De- 
troit I met with faces that reminded me of Bedwins 
and Egyptian fellahs. In the hue of their skin, qua- 
lity of hair, and many other circumstances, they were 
alike. They likewise resemble in having a mouth 
shaped like a shark's, the sides lower than the front, 
the teeth small, regular, white, and very sharp, like 
the tyger's*. This form may perhaps arise from 
their custom of biting from a large piece when they 
eat, without the use of knives. This motion gives 
the muscles a form, which they at length retain, and 
the solid parts are modified conformably to itf. 

* Children consequently cut them easily, and never suffer from 
dentition. 

t This will not account for the sharp teeth and the easy denti- 
,tion, nor, indeed, willjit account for^any thing. — Trans. 



565 

Viewing things in this light, the resemblance between 
savage tribes, remote from each other, will not argue 
any relationship between them, for similarities in 
shape and feature will naturally flow from similar cli- 
mate, soil, food, and manners. Their women have 
no peculiarity of feature. I do not deny the claim 
of the females to beauty. In this respect tastes can- 
not but vary, and toil and abstinence will make that 
a dainty, which, at another time, would be nauseous 
or insipid. I shall say little of the custom of the Chac- 
taws to mould tlie skull of their new-born children 
to the shape of a truncated pyramid, by pressing them 
betvv^een boards. This mode is so effectual, that the 
tidbe is known by the name of the Flat Heads. 

Some intelligent writers have said, that these peo- 
ple are all so much alike, that they are hardly distin- 
guishable one from another. They might as well 
say that all negroes and all sheep are alike : but this 
would only prove the carelessness of their scrutiny ; 
that they have not the eye of the shepherd or the 
slave dealer. *' We know every tribe," said Little 
Turtle, " at first sight. The shape, colour, knees, 
legs, and feet are all to us certain marks of distinc- 
tion. The print of the foot enables us to distinguish 
not only between men, women, and children, but 
even tribes. You whites are always known by turn- 
ing out your toes. We carry them straight forward, 
to avoid the obstacles of stones and bushes. Some 
turn their toes inward, have broad or narrow, long 



366 

or short feet ; some tread more on the heel, others 
on the toe, and the Hke." 

That the Indians have no beard is a notion ground- 
less, indeed, but formerly very current. The smooth 
chin is occasioned by the extreme care with which 
the hairs are, from time to time, eradicated. This 
custom is attested by all the accurate observers, such 
as Romans, Carver, Long, Umphraville, &c. Old- 
mixon, who wrote, in 1707, from the best authorities, 
says, the Indians have no beard, because they use 
certain receipts to remove it, which they will not dis- 
close. These receipts are since found to be nothing 
more than little shells, employed as tweezers. Since 
metals have been known to them, they make use of 
a piece of brass wire rolled on a round stick, of the 
size of a finger, so as to form a spiral spring, which 
grasps the hair, and piills out several at one time. 

It is strange that our Lahontan, and Kaimes among 
the English*, should have been ignorant of this fact : 
but it is by no means wonderful that such a para- 
doxical visionary as De Pauw should adopt the notion 
that the Indians are naturally beardless. Both Mr. 
Wells and Little Turtle left me no doubt on this 
head. The latter was as constantly employed in ex- 
tracting the hair, even of his eye-brows, as the Turks 
are in curhng their whiskers. No wonder if this 



* And the illustrious and laborious investigator Dr. Robert- 
son. — Trans. 



367 

practice, continued for se^veral gene7'ations% enfeeble 
the roots of the beard. As to hair elsewhere on the 
body, I myself have seen it surprisingly long and 
straight under the arm-pits. Does it grow more 
freely from exposure to the air ? and did the custom 
of out-rooting the beard arise from the wish to deprive 
the enemy of such a hold on the face ? This to me 
seems probable. 

The shape of the Indians is justly admired. They 
are generally plump and well made. Those who 
dwell in a fruitful and well watered country, like the 
banks of the Wabash, are taller and stouter than those 
who occupy poor land, which is the situation of all 
beyond latitude 45" north, who are both shorter and 
more slender. If we never meet with halt or blind 
among them, we must not draw too hasty an inference 
in favour of Indian manners, since every feeble child 
must necessarily perish in infancy. Na}^ parents 
will sometimes expose a deformed and burthensome 
infant; and, in this respect, they imitate the Spar- 
tans, and obey Lycurgus : not that they took the 
hint from the Spartan legislator, but because the same 
causes produce every where the same effects. In a 
poor and warlike nation, there is no place for idle or 
helpless mouths : and hence it is, that among many 
tribes, north of Lake Superior, the old and burthen- 
some are dispatched to live in another country ; in 

* How should the practice of one man, in this respect, affect 
the growth of hair in his grandson? — Trans. 



5G8 

plain terms, they are killed, as was done, according 
to Herodotus, by the savages of Scythia and the 
Erythrean sea. So wretched is this state of barbar- 
ism, that the old men themselves are generally the 
first to ask for death. If an Indian lose a limb by 
war or disease, he is undone. How could a cripple 
resist a robust enemy ? How could he hunt, or fish, 
or get food, which nobody will gratuitously give him? 
Nobody has any thing in store, and each one subsists 
on his oAvn precarious and laborious gettings. Hence 
likewise it is that none of them labour under ruptures 
nor chronical complaints. Wild Nature around them 
seems to say, " Be strong or perish." Yet she often 
deprives-them even of this hard option, by frequently 
multiplying their difficulties, till the strongest sink 
under the load. 

Much has also been said of the sound health of the 
Indians. Doubtless their constitutions derive a force 
and vigour from hardship and exposure, which the 
effeminate life of cities cannot afford : but it is to 
be remembered, that their way of life is a tissue of 
irregularities and excesses incompatible with constant 
health. They abhor the quiet labours of the farmer ; 
the roaming and precarious life of fishers and hunters 
they prefer ; and having no stores nor durable provi- 
sion, no cattle nor corn, they are liable to the most 
violent vicissitudes of scarcity and superfluity. When 
game is plent)^ and they can pursue it without dan- 
ger or constraint, they revel and gluttonize, but 'o hen 
it is scarce, and this happens every winter, or their 



369 

steps are hampered by the fear of an enemy, they are 
reduced to subsist, like the wolf, on roots and the 
bark of trees. They have lately bethought them- 
selves of drying fish, and reducing it to powder, but 
they never provide enough to last them through the 
season. When, after a long fast, they light on prey, 
a deer, bear, or buifaloe, they fall on it like vultures, 
and leave it not till they are gorged to the throat. This 
custom makes them unmanageable guides on a regu- 
lar journey. The quantity they will devour on such 
occasions, though the fact is supported by the strong- 
est testimony, is scarcely credible. It is notorious that 
a couple of starving Indians will pick the bones of a 
deer clean at one meal, and be still unsatisfied. This 
reminds us of the heroes at Troy, who could eat up 
half a calf or a lamb at breakfast : a clear proof that 
these heroes were no better than Creeks and Chero- 
kees. 

Such excesses, preceded and followed by painful 
abstinences, must necessarily impair the stomach and 
destroy the health ; and true it is that they are afflic- 
ted with diseases of the stomach, intermittent and bi- 
lious fevers, consumption, and pleurisy. Fractures 
and dislocations are not rare among them, but they 
are pretty dexterous in reducing them. They would 
sufter more from rheumatism, if they did not practice 
fumigation, by means of hot stones. The havoc 
made among them by the small-pox is well known ; 
and the evil is no doubt aggravated by the hardness 
• 3 A 



370 

of their skin, which opposes the eruption. Mr. Jef- 
ferson will do them an important kindness by teach- 
ing them, as the newspapers tell us he is doing, the 
process of vaccination. Of late years, the quaker and 
moravian missionaries, who have succeeded the Je- 
suits*, tell us, that their converts "have become more 
strong and hardy, and less subject to sickness, than 
the untamed savages. The superiority of the people 
of Kentucky and Virginia over them has been proved, 
not only in the contest of troop with troop, but man 
to man, in all their wars. 

I shall not mention, in proof of their infirmity, 
their slow pulse, as maintained by Dr. Rush, because 
Dr. Barton, at the same time and in the same per- 
sons, could perceive no difference, and the pulse of 
Little Turtle appeared to me just like my own. Nei- 
ther shall I mention the weakness of the sexual passion 
ascribed to them, as this arises from another cause. 
The Indian is continent and almost chaste from prin- 
ciple, and the danger of his situation ; the least dimi- 
nution of his strength might cost him his life, by 
making him less able to resist the attacks of his .fel- 
low-men, or of Nature^. 

* The quakers are missionaries on a new plan, since their ob- 
ject is not to influence the religious faith of the Indians, but merely 
to convert them into husbandmen, carpenters, smiths, and wea- 
vers. — Trans. 

t This is ascribing to the Indian much more moderation and 
foresight than he displays on other occasions. Since he is not 



I asked Mr. Wells whether there were many whites 
who adopted the savage life from choice, and why 
they preferred it to what we call the civilised life. 
His answer, which was copious and minute, agreed 
with what I had already heard from men of sense and 
experience, in Kentucky, at Vincennes, and Detroit. 
I learned from all these persons, that the Canadians, 
or men of French descent, were much more apt to 
make this exchange, than the men of British or Ger- 
man blood. The latter bear a violent antipathy to 
the Indians, which is encreased by the cruelty these 
people exercise upon their captives. They have a 
particular repugnance to the Indian females, which 
the French have not. Yet the preference of a savage 
life is less common among grown men than among 
the young. Americans, who have been carried off 
at an early age, have sometimes become attached to 
this life, because the liberty in which children are in- 
dulged of running and playing about is more agree- 
ble to them than the restraints of schools. To have 
nothing to do but to play is all that children desire ; 
years will hardly inure them to labour and study, but 
a few days will give them habits of idleness and inde- 

detevred, by the most palpable and powerful consaderations, from 
the excessive indulgence of other appetites, more immediateiy 
and glaringly destructive of his safety and health than this, \Ve 
cannot suppose him so very wise and provident on this head. 
The fact, indeed, ought to be proved before it is accounted for.— • 
Trans. 



372 

pendence. These are the primitive inclinations of 
man, and he turns to them mechanically*. 

As to adults, especially if they be Americans, 
taken and adopted by the Indians, they seldom con- 
tract a liking for the wigwam. " I myself (said Mr. 
Wells, who appeared to be about thirty-two), though 
taken away at thirteen, and adopted and well treated, 
could never forget the scenes and pleasures I had al- 
ready tasted. 

" Those who join the Indians of their own accord 
are generally Canadians, shallow libertines, idle and 
capricious. The influence they acquire among' their 
new friends flatters their vanity, and their licentious 
indulgences with the squaws form another charm to 
their vicious mindsf; but when they grow old, and 
sink into extreme misery, they seldom fail to return 
to their early habits, and regret their rambles when 
too late. 

*' Among us, a man, with ever so little industry, 
may get a comfortable living for the present, and lay 

* The children of the frontier settlers are but little acquainted 
with scholastic restraints. The true reason why the captive 
child soon becomes savage in his habits is the same that makes 
the savage himself persist in the course he has been accustomed 
to ; because he was too young at the time of his- captivity to have 
imbibed opposite habits and impressions, and young enough, 
therefore, to receive all those proper to the Indian mode of life. 
— Trans. 

t What becom-js of the continence and chastity supposed above 
to be ch:jractenstic of the savage life? — Trans. 



373 

up something for old age. We establish a farm, 
bring up children, who, when we are worn out with 
age, will close our eyes. Not so among Indians. All 
your pleasures consist of eating and drinking, and 
these are not always to be had, and hunting. The 
utmost flight of ambition is to be a great warrior, of 
some repute among five or six hundred men. Old 
age comes on with speed, your strength fails, your 
influence is no more, infirmity, contempt, neglect en- 
sue, and the only boon you can beg for, with success, 
is the stroke that puts an end to your existence. The 
Indian never requires the service of another : to serve 
or obey is, in his eyes, an ignominy reserved only 
for women. To hunt and fight are his provinces, 
while on the women is laid the burthen of all house- 
hold affairs, of tillage, if any there be, and of carrying 
the children and utensils on a journey : in short, they 
are beasts of burthen. They have no share in their 
husbands' property. Were Little Turtle to return 
home and die to-morrow, all his presents, clothes, 
hats, trinkets, would be scrambled for by his coun- 
trymen, and nothing go to his wife or children. 
Such is the custom of his tribe, and of many others : 
while living, each enjoys his arms, trinkets, and other 
moveables, but when dead, not even his knife or pipe 
falls to his children. They have no notion whatever 
of property in land or houses*. 

* Except tlie hut each one occ^^pies. — Trans. 



374 

'* A life, thus hard, is constantly in danger. The 
chances to which his life is continually exposed, are 
the chief subject of an Indian's thoughts. It is a frail 
vessel, momently liable to be broken by a thousand 
accidents. Death becomes so familiar to him, that 
he regards it with indifference : when inevitable, he 
resigns himself to it, or braves it with alacrity. 
Hence it is that he is attached to nothing but his 
weapons, or perhaps some associate, whose aid is 
useful to his safety. He regards his children as any 
other animal regards its young. He fondles and 
caresses them while present, but he leaves them with- 
out reluctance, and goes to hunt or to fight without 
thinking of them more. They may shift for them- 
selves, and live or die ; no matter, since death must, 
sooner or later, be their lot. Suicide is common 
among them : they kill themselves when tired of 
life, or thwarted in love, or in rage, when provoked 
without the means of vengeance. They live almost 
wholly to the present, they give little or no remem- 
brance to the past, and hope nothing for the future. 
In health, they gambol, laugh, and sing ; sick or 
weary, they lie down, smoke, or sleep : but as they 
seldom possess the means or opportunity of food or 
repose, they can found on this no claims to liberty or 
happiness." 

Such was the sum of Mr. Wells's information, 
W'hich was the more valuable, as being the result of 
twelve or fifteen years experience. I was curious to 



375 

know the reasons that withheld the Indians from set- 
tling and incorporating with the whites, and why 
many of them, though educated in colleges and on 
farms, so eagerly reverted to the habits of their coun- 
trymen. A few days afterwards, I had an opportu- 
nity of making these enquiries of Little Turtle him- 
self, and obtaining his answers. 

Some of the friends had paid him a visit, and in- 
vited him to remain among them, promising him that 
he should want for nothing.. When they were gone, 
I asked him, through our interpreter, why he did not 
accept their offer. " You know these people. They 
are slow in their offers and advances, but what they 
promise you know they will perform. Are you 
not more comfortable here than on the banks of the 
Wabash ?" 

He made a considerable pause, agreeably to the In- 
dian habits of deliberation and reserve in speaking. 
After some meditation, walking about the while, and 
plucking out his beard, he replied: " Yes; I am 
pretty well accustomed to what I find here. I think 
this dress warm and comfortable. These houses are 
good to keep out wind and rain, and they have every 
thing convenient. This market (we overlooked Mar- 
ket-street) gives us every thing we want, without the 
trouble of hunting in the woods. All things consi- 
dered, you are better off than we, but — here, I am 
deaf and dumb. I do not talk your language. When 
I walk the streets, I see every body busy about some- 
thing; one makes shoes, another hats, a third sells 



cloth, and all live by their work. I say to myself, which 
of these things can I do ? Not one. I can make a bovv^, 
catch fish, kill deer, and go to war, but none of these 
things are done here. To learn what you do would 
ask much time, be very difficult, and uncertain of 
success ; and meanwhile old age hurries on. Were I 
to stay with the whites, I should be an idle piece of 
furniture, useless to myself, to you, and to my nation. 
What must be done with useless lumber ? I must 
go back*." 

In this reply may we find the solution of the pro- 
blem. To every removal to a strange country the 
language is the first obstacle. To live with those 
with whom we cannot converse is intolerable ; and 
long after you speak it, it is extremely difficult to 
utter your wishes and ideas with readiness and pro- 
priety. This impediment surmounted, and the young- 
only can hope to surmount it, three others remain : 

* These reasonings would have been easily confuted, but no 
reasonings could have changed his inclinations, already moulded 
and fixed irrecoverably by the force of habit. The Indian life is 
a thousand times preferable, as to ease, safety, and liberty, to that 
of a sailor, yet how many of civilised communities are sailors ! 
and how impossible to change their inclinations by reasoning ! 
Habit endears motion, hardship, and danger, and an Indian returns 
to his woods for the same reasons which influenced an old gentle- 
man of easy fortune, in Rhode Island, after several years retire- 
ment, to equip a ship, and resume his early vocation of transport- 
ing negroes from Africa to Jamaica. Every body knows the ter- 
rors, dangers, discomforts, and privations that beset the master, 
and, above all, the mariner of a slave-ship. — Trans. 



377 

First, the early habits and impressions of childhood, 
the force of which is such, that, after much considera- 
tion^ I am now clearly of opinion^ that the moral system 
of man has assumed, at the age of five years, a shape 
and tendency which it will retain throuejh life. New 
or late events may unfold it, but the character con- 
tains nothing new ; all proceeds from the seed sown 
in childhood. Secondly, the tie of friendship and 
kindred. Thirdly, that painful and laborious pre- 
paration, which our social state would demand from 
an Indian \ not to mention the physical difficulty of 
abjuring his careless and erratic habits, and submit- 
ting to the restraint and drudgery of cities*. 

These men are in the state of wild animals, which 
cannot be tamed after they have reached a mature 
age. The missionaries have been long ago convin- 

* All these causes apply with as much force to that part of ci- 
vilised mankind who pass a country life, as to the Indians. The 
true problem is not why the Indian cannot be changed into a shop- 
keeper or mechanic, but why he cannot, like the Canadian of 
Vincennes and Kaskaskias, add to the enjoyment of his native 
woods, to hunting and fishing, the keeping of a cow or a few 
sheep, and the occasional culture of a corn field or a potatoe 
patch. This is all that the welfare of the United States, and 
their own happiness and dignity require of them. Nobody would 
think of persuading Little Turtle or Corn-Planter to idle away 
his life in the streets of a city, which any Canadian trader or 
Ohio planter would find as irksome and unnatural as he ; but why 
he cannot, if in fact he cannot, be persuaded to use his influence 
and example to induce his tribe to provide against scarcity of 
game, or infirmity of age, by appropriating and cultivaling a lit- 
tle ground, is the only mystery. — Trans. 

3 B 



378 

ced of this, and they all agree that this people can 
only be changed by taking them from infancy, nay, 
even from the birth, as we take birds we wish to dis- 
cipline, from the nest. This passion for independ- 
ence, that is, for doing nothing, is so strong among 
mankind, that the mechanics who adventure from 
Europe to America, if they have not skill to thrive 
pretty soon in the towns, generally apply their little 
earnings to buying a few acres in the country, where 
ground is to be had for twenty or fifty cents an acre, 
and there they settle as proprietors. Cutting down 
trees being rather toilsome, they soon relinquish the 
task, and mingle with their labour the diversions of 
shooting and fishing. In short, they become half sa- 
vages. But what price do they pay for these plea- 
sures ? Let us hear Mr. Wells. 

" Little Turtle has good reasons for what he says. 
If he delayed returning, he would lose all credit with 
his countrymen. Already it requires some address 
to retain their esteem. At home, he must resume 
their dress and habits, and be careful of praising those 
he has left, for fear of wounding their pride, which is 
extreme. Among them, the jealousy of every mem- 
ber of the clan makes the station of chief as perilous 
and tottering as that of a leader in a democratic state, 
for theirs, in fact, is a wild and lawless democracy. 
This man has at home good clothes, tea, aiid coffee. 
He has a cow, and his wife makes butter. But he 
must not indiiloe himself in these things, but reserve 
them for the whites. His first cow was killed by 



379 

night, and he was obliged to feign ignorance of the 
man who did it, and to report that she died of her- 
self*." 

" What," said I, ivitb an air of surprise ^ '* are these 
men of nature capable of hatred, envy, and sordid re- 
venge ? There are prime geniuses among us who 
maintain that the passions take root only in civilised 
society." 

" Well," said Mr. Wells, " let them spend a few 
months among Indians, and they will change their 
opinion." He then confirmed all I had heard at Vin- 
cennes and in Kentucky, of the intestine feuds and 
anarchy that raged among these nations. He told 
me, that the old had no coercive power over the 
young ; that any mutinous or fanatical young man 
might raise confusion among the youth, always tur- 
bulent, because idle, and stir up a war involving the 
whole tribe. Those things did not merely follo^v 
from the madness of drunkenness, but from certain 
superstitions, and a thirst of blood and of motion, 
common to wild men and wild beasts. He i2:ave 
some curious instances of tricks and stratacrems 

o 

among neighbouring tribes, the feuds they gave birth 
to, the deep revenge harboured for slight affronts, 

* It appears, then, that Litt'e Turtle was ainan capable of see- 
ing; the benefits of turning farmer. His difficulties were'unavoid- 
abie in his situation, but he is an example that an Indian can ab-, 
jure his habits, and adopt all the modes ojt' the whites which are 
worthy of adoption.— Trans. 



380 

and the system of immeasureable retaliation which 
these produce. 

A striking example of this vindictive spirit occur- 
red, M'ithin my own observation, at Miami fort, in the 
conduct of a noted chief called Blue Jockey. This 
man, Avhen drunk, met an old enemy, to whom he had 
borne a grudge of twenty-two years standing. Blue 
Jockey seized the opportunity, and killed him. Next 
day all the family were in arms to revenge the mur- 
der. He came to the fort, and said to the command- 
ing officer, who repeated the tale to me, " Let them 
kill me. It is but right. My heart betrayed me, and 
the liquor robbed me of my wits. But they threaten 
to kill my son, and that is not just. Father, try to 
make it up for me. I will give them all I have : my 
two horses, my trinkets, my weapons, except one set, 
and, if that will not content them, I will meet them 
at any time and place, and they may kill me." 

This law of retaliation prevails among all barba- 
rians, that is among those who have no regular go- 
vernment : for then each man is obliged to be his 
own protector. To suppose it transmitted from the 
earliest races, from Arabs or Hebrews, is absurd. 
It may indeed have been the Arabs who introduced 
it into Spain, Italy, and Corsica*. It is quite pos- 

* In the three months which I spent in Corsica, I heard of 1 1 1 
private murders, committed in retaUation. Under the Genoese 
government, they amounted to 900 yearly. What a government I 
what manners ! 



381 

« 

sible, however, that barbarism had mtroduced it al- 
ready, and without their aid*. 

" Yet," said Mr. Wells, " the Indians of the 
Wabash, the Miamis, Putewoatamies, Sec. are better 
than they were a few generations ago. Longer - 
intervals of peace, which they oAve to the decline of 
the Six Nations, have allowed them to raise some 
corn and potatoes, and even cabbages and turnips. 
Their captives have planted peach and apple trees, 
and taught them to breed poultry, pigs, and even 
cows r in short, they are as much improved as the 
Creeks and Chactawsf. 

When we recollect that, according to the earliest 
travellers and annalists of New England and Virginia, 
the Indians were of old still further advanced than at 
present ; that each tribe had a sachem or chief, pos- 
sessed, in some respects, of monarchical authority, and 

* The last two sentences contradict, in some degree, the fore- 
eoing one. Retaliation is the mode of punishment which all 
simple nations, and some refined ones, have solemnly adopied, as 
the most just. The same structure of mind, which gave this rule 
to one nation, or one man, gives it to another. — Trans. 

t These hints would lead us to suppose that the Indian tribes 
have really derived some benefit from their vicinity to a civilised 
people. They very early learned the use of horses and fire-arms, 
and thus acquired new means of killing game and defending 
themselves. They receive many useful, as well as some perni- 
cious things, in the way of trade, and have already probably taken 
several steps towards a total assimilation to the customs of the 
whites, but they are hastening to extinction v/ith a much quicker 
pace than to civilisation. — .I'iIans. 



382 ^ 

composing privileged and noble families, as among the 
Arabs ; that their population was considerable, and 
their respective territories of moderate extent : must 
we not infer that their state was more civilised ; that 
they would have spontaneously gone forward to the 
point which human societies have reached in the east- 
ern continent ; that their wars with the colonists have 
plunged them into anarchy, and thrown them many 
degrees backward ; that their state, rude as it is, is 
liable to revolutions, perhaps the more frequent and 
violent, as their numbers are smaller, and their* con- 
dition weaker ? 

The Weeaw chief, who harangued me at Vin- 
cennes said to me, " Before the war (from 1788 to 
1794), we were united and peaceable ; we began to 
raise corn like the whites. But now we are poor 
hunted deer, scattered abroad without house or home, 
and, unless som.ebody come to our assistance, no 
trace of us will be left." 

While conversing with Mr. Wells, the chief was 
looking out of the window at uhat was passing in 
Market- street. To draw his attention, I told him I 
had been among a people strangely different from his, 
for they were kept in subjection by five or six thou- 
sand horsemen, though they amounted to two mil- 
lions and a half in number, and covered a country al- 
most equal to the Ohio. So that about three hun- 
dred and seventy persons allowed themselves to be 
robbed, imprisoned, beaten, and abused by a single 
man, no stronger than any of them. 



383 

Knowing the haughty spirit of an Indian, I ex- 
pected some very indignant reply ; but he merely an- 
swered, quietly stroking his chin, " For all that, they 
have, no doubt, pleasures of their own kind." I was 
much surprised at an answer which betokened a mind 
free from the prejudice of education, and capable of 
comprehending the power of habit. 

In conclusion, I enquired what it was that so much 
engaged his attention in the market, and what he 
thought most remarkable in Philadelphia. 

" In observing this multitude" (it was market 
day), replied he, " two things surprise me : the 
great number of the white people, and the difference 
in their faces. We red men have each a face and ap- 
pearance of his own, but still we are all much alike : 
but here there is an endless and puzzling variety. 
There are ten different shades between black and 
white; and the face, the forehead, nose, mouth, and 
chin ; black, brown, and light hair ; blue, grey, and 
brown ejes : all make such a diversity as puzzles 
me very much." 

I told him that this city was visited by all nations 
of the globe, and these, by marrying together, could 
not fail of producing great varieties. But, added I, 
if you were to visit the inland parts of our countries, 
France or England, you would find all the people of 
a village, by marrying among themselves for many 
generations, become all alike. — This is what I have 
frequently noticed, in sequestered and lonely parishes, 
especially in the forests of Laval and Rennes. Sta- 



384 

tioning myself at the church door, I have examined 
the people as they passed, and I have observed one 
general physiognomy common, but peculiar to each 
parish. 

*' As to your numbers," said the chief, " your en- 
crease is quite inconceivable. More than two lives, 
supposing eighty years to each, have not gone by 
since the whites first set foot among us, yet already 
they swarm like flies : while we, who have been here 
nobody knows how long, are still as thin as deer." 

Finding his thoughts going in this track, I asked 
him why they did not multiply as fast. " Ah !" said 
he, " our case is very different. You whites con- 
trive to collect upon a small space a sure and plenti- 
ful supply of food. A white man gathers from a field, 
a few times bigger than this room, bread enough for 
a whole year. If he adds to this a small field of grass, 
he maintains beasts, which give him all the meat and 
clothes he wants, and all the rest of his time he may 
do what he pleases ; while we must have a great deal 
of ground to live upon. A deer will serve us but a 
couple of days, and a single deer must have a great 
deal of ground to put him in good condition. If 
we kill t\\^ or three hundred a year, 'tis the same as 
to eat all the wood and grass of the land they live on, 
and that is a great deal*. No wonder the whites 



* A thousand acres a head, in a fruitful country, is a scanty al- 
lowance for Indian population. An Irish peasant's family, of six 
persors, derive a plentiful subsistence from three acres of pasture 



585 

drive us every year further and further before them, 
from the sea to the Mississippi. They spread like 
oil on a blanket ; we melt like snow before the sun. 
If things do not greatly change, the red men will dis- 
appear very shortly." These remarks convinced me, 
as they will my readers, that this man has justly earned 
the reputation which he enjoys, for sagacity superior 
to most of his countrymen. 

Here we have an Indian, who, ill spite of the pre- 
judices of his education, of prejudices sanctioned by 
the ancient and universal habits and opinions of his 
countrymen, has had penetration enough to discover 
the essential basis of the social state in the cultivation 
of the earth, and in landed property : for there can 
be no regular cultivation without a stable right of 
property. In all these tribes there is a set of old 
men, who, when they see any one busy with the hoe, 
exclaim against the degeneracy of modern times. 
They pretend that their national decline is owing 
entirely to these innovations, and to retrieve their 
ancient glory and prosperity nothing more is needful 
than to throw away the hoe, and return to their pri- 
mitive manners*. 

and potatoe land. Here is, then, the enormous difference of a 
thousand to one. — Trans. 

* Their condition would doubtless be improved, if they abjured 
every thing new and European. They would profit, on the whole, 
if they got rid of spirits and the small-pox, together with every 
beneficial acquisition. — Trans. 

3 c 



386 

Let any one compare this sketch with the specula- 
tions of Rousseau, who maintains that the introduc- 
tion of exchisivc property was the first corrupter of 
manners, and who deplores that folly and infatuation 
which prevented the savage from pullins^ up the first 
stake, as a sacrilegious restraint upon his natural li- 
berty*. Let him consider to which the most credit 
is due ; a man situated like Little Turtle, who has 
spent fii'ty years in the management of public affairs, 
in governing turbulent and jealous minds, with ac- 
knowledged skill and address, and has fully expe- 
rienced the benefits and evils of both ways of life ; or 
a humble individual like Rousseau, who never had the 
care of any public business, and knew not even how 
to manage his own ; who, having created for himself 
an airy and fantastic world, knew as little of the so 
ciety of which he was born a sequestered member, as 
of Indians, of whom all his notions were gathered 
from the woods of Montmorenci ; who even did not 
vindicate the tenets of his book from conviction, but 
as a wanton exercise of eloquence and ingenuity, and 
who was zealous in defence of them, merely because 
his humour was thwarted, and his vanity mortifiedf. 

* See Rousseau, Sii7- I' Liegalile, Ecc. 

t This hint respecting Rousseau is founded upon some little 
circumstances, which are often of much importance in the history 
of great men. My information was received from the late baron 
Holbach and Mr. Maigeon, member of the Institute. When the 
Academy of Dijon proposed its celebrated question, Diderot was 
a prisoner in the castle of Vincennes, for his letter On the Blind. 



387 

What a pity is it that this author embraced a bad 
cause, as his talents would have been proportionabiy 
more useful and successful in the cause of truth, and 
he might have had ample scope in declaiming against 
the genuine corruptions of socie^^j'. If he had dra^vn 
a true picture of savage life, as a state without com- 
pact or union, by which roaming and unsettled men 

Rousseau used to visit him. On one of these visits, he showed 
Diderot the question, and said, " 'Tis a curious subject : I have a 
mind to enter the lists." " In what way," said Diderot, " do 
you mean to take up the question ?" " In the obvious way ; there 
can be but one way. Can the arts and sciences be otherwise 
than favouTable to the prosperity of nations ?" " That," said 
Diderot, " will only be to trample on the fallen ; to swim with 
the tide : it would be far iCQiie striking to maintain the reverse." 
Rousseau went away, evidently struck with this thought, wrote 
his essay accordingly, and the rustic academicians gave him the 
prize. 

Some time after, Holbach and Diderot met him in the Cours 
la Reine, and complimented him on the ingenuity of his perform- 
ance. Rousseau made merry with the triumph of his paradox, 
and laughed at the simplicity of his judges. Some talk followed 
on the subject, and the weak side of his argument was pointed 
out. Rousseau grew angry. They met again, and the same 
topic was revived, but Rousseau, to their great surprise, was now- 
changed, and fiercely maintained, as a truth, what he had for- 
merly treated as a jest. Holbach observing this, " IMy friend," 
said he to Diderot, " Rousseau, in his first work, will make man 
walk on all fours." His prediction was verified. 

Such was the oris:in of that man's opinions, whose motto was 
" Vitam imfiendere x'ero j" and these opinions have still some dis- 
ciples, so atdent in their zeal, that they would willingly send to 
\"incennes all thoss who do not admire the Cunfes&ions. 



388 

are urged to action by violent and physical wants, and 
by passions connected with these wants ; who exer- 
cise on each other no faculty but brute strength, 
whose effects are directly opposite to those of that 
equilibrating principle called Justice. If he had de- 
fined civilisation, agreeably to etymology (it comes 
from civitas, a city), to mean the settlement of men 
into contiguous habitations, within an enclosure 
formed to protect them from plunderers without and 
disorder within ; a union which supposes the free 
consent of its members, the natural right of each to 
safety of person and property, and a mutual compact 
to regulate the conduct, and circumscribe the liberty 
of all, according to the rules of equity : he would 
thus have proved that civilisation is only that state of 
human society, in which persons and property are 
carefully protected ; that this state implies a stable 
government and equal laws ; while, on the contrary, 
those who want these blessings are the truly barba- 
rous and uncivilised. He might have shown, that if 
civilised communities have vicious and depraved 
members, they are not produced by the social and po- 
litical union, but are merely vestiges and remnants of 
that barbarous condition from which all nations arose: 
just as single men retain the bad habits instilled into 
them by a bad education. 

In discussing the influence of science and literature 
on the social system, he might have maintained that 
the arts, especially those of poetry, architecture, and 
painting, are proofs of civilisation, and indications of 



389 

the prosperous condition of a nation. Yet he might have 
produced examples from Italy and Greece, to show 
that these arts may flourish under licentious demo- 
cracy, and under military despotism, which are both 
equally savage stages. All that they want is a strong 
government, disposed to countenance and foster them. 
But this encouragement, carried to excess, is destruc- 
tive of the government itself, as private virtuosi are 
ruined by lavishing too much time or money on pic- 
tures, furniture, or buildings. The fine arts, by en- 
grossing too much of the national revenue, may sub- 
vert the government, and destroy social order, and 
examples of this he might find in the histories of 
Athens, Rome, and Palmyra. By this means he 
might have done mankind an important service, by 
giving its due direction and proper limits to taste, 
and countervailing that bias, which has been of late 
years so pregnant with mischief*. But let us return 
to America. 

We have stated the reason why this mode of life is 
unfavourable to population. It would be a curious 
enquiry to ascertain the difference, in this respect, 
between savage and civilised life, and to calculate, in 
general, how many Indians are maintained on a given 

* Individuals may ruin themselves by the misapplication of 
their fortune to objects of taste, but nobody ever heard of any na- 
tion who has done the same. Follies of a more gigantic and 
costly nature are usually the causes of national distress, and no 
■where does it appear that Athens, Rome, or Palmyra incurred any 
injury, as nations^ by their passion for building. — Trans. 



390 

quantity of land. Unluckily we want accurate data 
for such a calculation, but we have some which may 
possibly bring us somewhat near the truth. 

Carver, who lived several months, in 1768, among 
the Noudowessies of the plains, tells us, with confi- 
dence, that the eight tribes of the nation were able 
to reckon up only two thousand warriors. This num- 
ber of fighting men will allow us to suppose four 
thousand old men, women, and children, which, alto- 
gether, amount to six thousand. Now the tract of 
land occupied by these tribes appears to be four or 
five times greater than Pennsylvania. Stating it at 
only four times, and allowing Pennsylvania 50,000 
square miles, which, quadrupled, makes 200,000, 
consequently, among the Noudowessies, there is less 
than one person to thirty square miles. 

Maupertuis, in his travels towards the pole, com- 
putes the population of Lapland at one to three square 
miles, and the Laplanders live in peace, under a civi- 
lised government. This case, though the reverse of 
the former, tends to ^rengthen my conclusion. All 
the Canadian traders agree in reporting, that, as they 
go northward, beyond the 45th degree, the natives 
are so thinly scattered, and the land so sterile, that 
we cannot admit a higher population than we have 
given to the Noudowessies : but since the soil im- 
proves as we return southward, and the coasts of the 
South Sea appear more populous, let us allow one 
head to eighteen square miles, through all North 
America. That continent, excluding the United 



391 

States and Mexico, may be equal to six millions of 
square miles, which, at the foregoing rate, would 
maintain about 334,000 Indians. To satisfy the most 
scrupulous, let us double that number, and make 
670,000, yet this is only the population of a small 
province of four or five thousand square miles, in a 
civilised kingdom*. This difference alone will en- 
able us to determine which kind of life demands the 
preference : it likewise puts beyond the reach of con- 
troversy the question, whether savages have a right to 
refuse land to agricultural nations, who have not 
enough of their ownf. 

In their state of population, and in their mode of 
occupying territory, the Indians resemble the wander- 

* According to this rule, the counties of Lancaster or York, in 
England, contains as many souls as all the aborigines of North 
America amount to, exclusive of Mexico and the United States. 
— Trans. 

t The population of North America may be computed in the 
libllowing manner: 

The United States contain - - 5,215,000 

Mexico is allowed by the Spaniards to contain :i,000,000 

Canada, in 1798, about - - 200,000 

Upper and Lower Louisiana - - 40,000 

East and West Florida - - 40,000 

Creeks, Chactaws, and Chickasaws - 24,000 

Indians in the North-western Territory 15,000 

The rest of the continent - - 600,000 



Total 9,134,000 

Thus the whole population is hardly more than nine millions, 
nd the last item is probably over-ruted by one-half. 



39^ 

ing Arabs of Asia and Africa ; but the Bedvvins, pos- 
sessing land which bears nothing but grass, and this 

South America appears to be less populous. Enlightened 
Spaniards do not compute tlie number, exclusive of the unsub- 
jected natives, at more than - - 4,000,000 

Brazil is reckoned to contain of Portuguese blood 

500,000, and negroes 600,000 - 1,100,000 

The Indians unconquered, if we consider their ter- 
ritory, cannot be allowed to exceed 1,000,000 
The West Indian Isles - - 1,800,000 
Dutch and French Guiana - - 75,000 



Total 7,975,000 
Thus we have about eight millions, which, if we raise to ten, 
will make the whole population of America twenty inillions. 

This estimate differs widely from that of Lalande, who, in the 
annals of years 8 and 9, gave the new world one hundred and' 
eighty millions. In the years 9 and 10, he suddenly fell to sixty 
millions; and, in the present year (12), he has adopted my esti- 
mate, which he received through the hands of a common friend.' 
He ought to act in the same manner in his estimates for Asia,i 
which he peoples with five hundred and eighty millions. No 
doubt he assigns to China two or three hundred millions of these ;i 
but by the British estimates, published last year, the population 
of the country amounts only to fifty-five millions, and we may 
assign the same number to the cities of that empire : but by com- 
parison with Europe, it may contain - 120,000,000 
Asiatic Turkey may have - 1 1,000,000 
Persia, according to Olivier - 3,000 ,00Q 
Africa, including Egypt, can hardly exceed 

America, but let it be - - 30,000,000' 

America - - - 20,000,000 

Europe - - - 142,000,000 



Total 437,000,009 



393 

•very scantily, are obliged to collect together, and 
tame harmless and docile animals, to treat them kind- 
ly, to subsist on their milk rather than on their flesh, 
and to make clothing from their hair rather than from 
their skin. The nature of their dwelling-place has 
led them to the shepherd's life, and temperance is en- 
joined them, under the penalty of dying with famine. 
Whereas the savage of America, inhabiting a soil 
which abounds with grass, shrubs, and Xr^ts, finds it 
hard to retain the captive beasts, while they can flee 
into the woods, and more pleasant and convenient to 
hunt than to feed them, he has been fashioned, by 

Which is a total for the whole globe of less than five hundred 
millions*. 

We need not wonder at the mistakes committed in reckoning 
the population of barbarous countries, since we have instances of 
enormous errors at home. Till 1792, the Corsicans were never 
reckoned at more than 158,000, as I have seen in the returns of 
the directory at Corte. At present, Corsica, in all official reports, 
stands at 230,000; and this difVerence I shall now account for. 
In 1793, some Corsican patriots found it convenient to have two 
departments, instead of one, for then France would pay double 
salaries of every kind. The amount total of 158,000 was given 
to Golo alone, and to Liamone were given the 72,000, which it 
may possibly possess, but they were already included in the sum 
total. Thus, in one day, Corsica almost doubled its inhabitants, 
though certain it is their numbers have dwindled since 1790. 
Yet this is an official account, accepted and published without 
scruple or objection. 

* Macartney has proved the Chinese empire to contain three hundred and 
thirty millions, which would make the above total six hundred and forty-seven 
miUions. — Trans. 

3 D 



394 

the nature of his residence, into a hunter, a shedder 
of blood and devourer of flesh*. 

From this difference in their modes of subsistence, 
a corresponding difference has arisen in their habits 
and propensities. On the one hand, the Arab shep- 
herd, compelled to be sparing and frugal of the lives 
of his cattle, and accustomed to love them as his pro- 
perty, has, of course, a less ferocious character, is 
more fitted for social union, for accjuiring the spirit of 
family, and notions of inheritance, both in property 
and power. Hence the condition of the Bedwins is 
far more improved. I'hey have a government, in 
some cases, patriarchal, in which the head of the fa- 
mily has kingly power over his kindred ; in others 
aristocratic, where the government is shared between 
the heads of several families. As the public manners 
are formed by the private, and as their pastoral do- 
main requires only a slow and gradual enlargement, 
the temper of the tribe is less warlike ; that is, it 
is not so quarrelsome and sar.guinary. Property 
extending its rights and obligations to a greater num- 
ber of objects, and the people having more occasion 
for communuig together, their ideas of justice are 
more enlarged, the limits of their possessions are more 
carefully and accurately settled, hospitality flourishes, 
and, in short, they are, in all respects, a more civi- 
lised race. 

* None of these reasons "wh.y the Indian is not a shepherd will 
hold good. The ''artars, in the same kind of country, have l?e- 
come pastoral.— Trans, 



395 

The American hunter^ who has daily occasion to 
kill and to eat the slain, by whom every animal is 
regarded as prey which he must be quick to seize, 
has imbibed, of course, an errant, wasteful, and cruel 
disposition. He is akin to the wolf and the tyger. — 
He unites with his fellows in troops, but not in frater- 
nities. A stranger to property, all the sentiments 
springing from a family are unknown to him. De- 
pendent on his own powers, he must always keep 
them on the stretch : and hence a turbulent, harsh, 
and fickle character ; a haughty and untractable spirit, 
hostile to all men. He is constantly vigilant, because 
danger is ever present, and always ready to hazard a life 
which at best is held by so frail a tenure; he is equally 
indifferent to the past, which has been destitute of com- 
fort and security, and to the future, from which there 
is nothing better to hope ; and, lastly, he enjoys an 
existence concentering itself in the present moment. 
Such is the private, and from such is formed the na- 
tional character. Always in want, yet thriftless ; and 
always greedy, yet improvident, their situation leads 
them to extend their rights of hunting, and to en- 
croach upon their neighbours. Hence a more warlike 
spirit towards strangers ; while at home their imper- 
fect ties, social and domestic, give birth to a demo- 
cracy, turbulent and terrible, or, more accurately 
speaking, to a pure anarchy. 

It is generally true that no right of property exists 
among the Indians, but it is to be admitted with some 
exceptions. Travellers agree in saying, that in the 



396 

wildest and most vagabond tribes, each one has an 
exclusive right to his arms, clothes, trinkets, and 
other moveables. It is to be remarked, that all these 
are acquired by his labour and ingenuity, and this 
species of property, therefore, arises from that which 
a man has in his own body and life, and is, conse- 
quently, natural and universal. All agree, likewise, 
in saying, that real or landed property is entirely un- 
known among them. This is true in relation to all 
the wandering and unsettled tribes, but it does not 
hold in the case of those whom a fertile soil, or any 
other circumstance, has rendered sedentary. This is 
the situation of the Creeks and Putewoatamies, and 
was found, a century ago, among the Hurons and Six 
Nations. These tribes reside in villages, in houses 
built of logs, mud, or stones, and in these dwellings 
the builder has an undisputed property, as well as in 
the gardens sometimes adjoining them. 

It even appears, that, in some tribes, where tillage 
is regularly pursued, children and kindred inherit 
these, and consequently the rights of real property 
are fully established. In other unsettled tribes, all is 
heaped together, after the last possessor's death, and 
divided among his neighbours, by lot or by some 
other rule. If the village be deserted, no one retains 
any right to his hut or garden ; but he has the rights 
of the first occupant, and of his own, personal in- 
dustry. 

Exclusive of the village and its precincts, the ter- 
ritory is every where enjoyed in common, as we see 



397 

takes place, with respect to some portion of their 
lands, in some villages of France, in Poitou and Brit- 
tany, but much more extensively in Spain, Italy, and 
all the coasts of the Mediterranean. In Corsica there 
is a striking analogy, in this respect, to be found 
with the sedentary Indian tribes. There the greater 
part of the land, belonging to most villages, is held 
in common ; on this land each one has a right to pas- 
ture his cattle, cut wood, and the like. But as tillage 
prevails somewhat more in Corsica, a fourth or fifth 
part is cultivated by the peasants in rotation. It is 
distributed among the families by lot, and each holds 
its assigned jxjrtion a year. As soon as the corn is 
gathered, the ground becomes common, or rather a 
scene of plunder and waste ensues, for all have a right 
to take away, but nobody to put in : nobody can build 
a house or plant a tree. It is resigned to the flocks, 
who range over it at will. As these chiefly consist 
of goats, who, as well as their guides, are very destruc- 
tive animals, private fiields are continually invaded, 
and the burthen of enclosure is daily encreased. 
Among the causes of the rude and barbarous coudi-- 
tion, in which the Corsicans have, for so many ages, 
remained, the most powerful is the extent of its co?n- 
mons, which engross most of the island, and the in- 
significance and insecurity of private property. 

To the same cause are owing the poAcrty and 
rudeness of the people who inhabit the commons of 
Brittany. The evils produced by this state of things, 
in Great Britain, have been forcibly displayed by sir 



398 

John Sinclair, to whose speculations on this subject 
I refer the reader. In Corsica, waylaying and murder 
has become, on this account, more frequent : the land 
being a desert, affords opportunities which otherwise 
would be wanting. The abolition of these common 
rights is the first step towards civilising this island. 
A second step should be to prevent the accumulation of 
land in a few hands ; to make some portion of the 
ground indivisible or unalienable, so that no proprietor 
should hold more than one portion, as at Sparta. Small 
estates cannot govern themselves like great ones ; in 
them the balance is too variable. The custom of 
Brittany, as it prevailed in the counties of Rohan and 
Cornwall ( Cornoiiailles ) had similar effects. There 
the land always went to the youngest son, the elder 
sons receiving a small portion, as they were supposed 
more able to acquire for themselves ; and these pro- 
vinces have always been the best cultivated. Corsica 
might easily support thirty thousand families in ease 
and dignity : at present it has that number, almost 
all of them idle and poor. Without independence, 
there can be no mental improvement, agriculture, or 
industry. I suppose it was on this account that Pas- 
cal Paoli made no change in the ancient institutions. 
The Indians and the Corsicans are alike in another 
point. Of both, the villages are scattered over a wide 
extent, so that fifty houses will sometimes spread over 
half a mile square. The Indian adopts this system 
from a shyness and suspicion of his neighbours, from 
the dread of vengeance, secret or avowed, for slight 



399 

and unintentional offences. Daily experience gives 
them so bad an opinion of each other, that they meet 
as seldom as possible, and never go forth unarmed ; 
and the law of retaliation adds new force to their cau- 
tion and mistrust*. They who know Corsica know 
whether the same passions have not produced the 
same effects. The parallel might, indeed, be ex- 
tended to many other particulars, but the people ought 
not, in this case, to be reproached for their evil ha- 
bits : they are chargeable upon the Genoese govern- 
ment, whose scheme of administration v/as the most 
pernicious that ever existed. I was convinced, by a 
year's residence in this island, that it is worthyof a bet- 
ter fate, and that the people only want a few leading 
reformations in their laws to make them as industrious 
and civilised as any nation. The understanding of 
these islanders is as acute as any nation can boast, 
and their soil is much better than is commonl}^ sup- 
posed : but how rare it is to find thirty years of peace 
and good government, in the course of three centu- 
ries, among any people ! 

From the nature of the savage state, wars must 
be frequent, and almost incessant. Cruelty is the cer- 

* It is hard to conceive how these motives could lead to the use 
of separate and lonely habitations ; how they could counterbalance 
the fear of foreign enemies, whose attacks must be facilitated by 
this mode of settlement. But Volney is an enthusiast against the 
savages, and is as zealous to depreciate, as Rousseau was to exalt 
their character. — Trans. 



400 

tain consequence of shedding much blood, or seeing 
it shed ; but this cruel temper is promoted by other 
circumstances, 

1. The selfish spirit which every Indian carries to 
war, arising from the reflection that the domain is 
common, the deer upon it his immediate subsistence, 
and, consequently, that the enemy is assailing all that 
is dear to him. 

Among polished nations a small part of the people 
is directly affected by war. The rest are influenced 
through the medium of taxation, and are deprived of 
that with which they easily part. Among such a peo- 
ple, war is carried on with little rage or animosity. 
They fight and die from the impulse of vanity, and 
in the way of a trade or profession, by which they 
look for riches and honour. Whereas among savages, 
poor and few as they are, the whole tribe, and every 
member has his all embarked in the contest. War 
has two ends with them : one is to starve, and the 
other to exterminate the whole society. Of conse- 
quence, the soldier must feel all his energies awak- 
ened, and his whole soul must be engaged in the con- 
test. 

The ferocity of their wars is owing, secondly, to 
the fierce revenge and terror of shame, with which the 
warrior is inflamed. The party being always small, 
each one fights in the view of all his friends and ene- 
mies. Infamy as well as certain death pursues the 
coward, and personal competition is added to all the 
fervours which hatred and revenge inspire. 



401 

A third cause of their ferocity is their mode of war- 
fare, in which no quarter is allowed or expected. To 
be killed is the least evil which the defeated can incur; 
for if he be only wounded, or made prisoner, he can 
merely expect to be scalped immediately, or burned 
alive and devoured piece-meal. I shall explain what 
I mean by scalping in the words of John Long, an 
English trader, who lived twenty years among the 
Indians. 

" When an Indian strikes a person on the temple 
with a tomahawk, the victim instantly drops : he then 
seizes his hair with one hand, twisting it very tight 
together, to separate the skin from the head, and pla- 
cing his knee on the breast, with the other he draws 
the scalping knife from the sheath, and cuts the skin 
round the forehead, pulling it off" with his teeth. As 
he is very dexterous, the operation is generally per- 
formed in two minutes. The scalp is then extended 
on three hoops, dried in the sun, and rubbed over 
with Vermillion. 

" There are instances of persons of both sexes, now 
living in America, who, after having been scalped, 
by wearing a plate of silver or tin on the crown of 
the head, to keep it from cold, enjoy a good state of 
health, and are seldom afflicted with pains." — Long's 
Travels, p. 22. 

Hence it appears that this operation is not always 
fatal. I myself knew an instance to the same effect, 
in a German settler at Gallipolis. 

3 E 



402 

Scalps are trophies of military glory, which is pro- 
portioned to the longest string of them. 

As to the practice of burning and devouring cap- 
lives, every narration of an Indian war informs us 
that captives are fastened to a stake, near a pile of 
burning wood, there to be tormented in all the ways 
which savage vengeance can devise. Travellers re- 
late incredible things of the joy displayed by the vic- 
tors at these terrible sacrifices, the fury even of 
the women and children, and their emulation in cru- 
elty. They describe the heroic firmness of the suf- 
ferers, who not only betray no pain nor fear, but 
b ave their tormentors with the bitterest insults and 
sarcasms. They chant their own exploits, enumer- 
ate the friends and kinsmen of the spectators whom 
they have slain, or tortured in a much more ingeni- 
ous manner, they upbraid them with ignorance in the 
art of tormenting, and at last, dropping piece-meal, 
they expire with taunts in their mouths, under the 
teeth of their enraged enemies. These tales would 
not be credited by civilised nations, were they not 
well authenticated, and posterity, who will know no 
savages, will treat such tales as fabulous*. 

After this let romantic dreamers boast of the mild- 
ness and purity of their man of nature. Equally er- 
roneous are such writers as Pauw, who attribute these 

* Alas 1 what a mistaken notion that cruelty prevails only 
amontj iiunling tribes, and :hat posterity will cease to be govern- 
ed by the same ferocious passions, or prompted by them to the 
same excesses ! — Trans. 



403 

displays of firmness to dull and naturally blunt sen- 
sations. They must surely, if this were the cause, 
have as little sensibility as oysters or trees. The 
truth is, the whole arises from a certain state of mind, 
when exalted by passion, instances of which are found 
in the political and religious martyrs of all nations. 
They are all in that state of feeling called fanaticism, 
which is a strenuous belief that we are in the right, 
and that our enemies are in the wrong : a conviction 
that stands in no need of reasoning, and is incapable of 
doubt. Indians, like martyrs at the stake, are buoyed 
up by pride, far above their surrounding foes, and a 
strife ensues between their wrath and his vanity, 
which shall hold out the longest. In every form of 
society, this sort of competition daily produces the 
greatest extravagances, as in gaming, war, and duels. 
The fanaticism of religious martyrs is commonly 
founded on the hope of futurity. The Indian wants 
this hope, and hence his courage surprises us the 
more, and may claim, perhaps, more applause : but 
he is urged onward by despair, the certainty that no- 
thing can avert his fate. He is like those animals, 
who defend themselves with fierceness and obstinacy, 
when assailed in their last retreat. The weakest and 
most timid are then capable of prodigious efforts in 
their own defence. In the Indian, it is the combined 
impulses of fanaticism and necessity. On this dou- 
ble basis the Scandinavian Odin erected his religion. 
But a curious question remains to be solved, namely : 
in what physical state are the nerves, or the electric 



404 

fluid within them, by which the sense of pain is sus- 
pended or extinguished ? This subject is well wor- 
thy the attention of medical schools ; and those socie- 
ties who speculate on moral topics would be equally 
well employed in discussing the nature and laws of 
fanaticism, in enquiring into the means, either in 
temperament or education, by which it is induced, 
and into the best mode of prevention or cure, and, 
finally, to ascertain whether its operation on society 
be more or less mischievous than the opposite spirit 
of doubt and incredulity. 

The last circumstance which generates ferocity in 
an Indian is his education, and the pains which, in 
his earliest childhood, his parents and elders take to 
mould his inclinations and his feelings. " From 
their infant state," says Long, p. 60, " they endea- 
vour to promote an independent spirit: they are never 
known to beat or scold them, lest the martial dispo- 
sition, which is to adorn their future life and charac- 
ter, should be weakened : on all occasions they avoid 
every thing compulsive, that the freedom with which 
they wish them to think and act may not be con- 
trolled." 

In this, as in the wlx)le system of savage life, the 
grand mover is self-preservation. To make them- 
selves bold protectors, the\ mothers spoil their chil- 
dren, who, when they gro\v^, up, will domineer over, 
insult, and even beat their mothers. They pass their 
nights in recounting the exploits of their relatives : 
they relate how many they slew, scalped, or burnt. 



405 

in their lives; and how, when captives at last, they 
bore their torments without shrinking. Sometimes 
they relate domestic quarrels, schemes of retaliation, 
and methods of revenge : thus they teach a perpetual 
lesson of hypocrisy, cruelty, suspicion, hatred, and 
revenge. They eagerly seize the opportunity afforded 
by the possession of a prisoner to exemplify these 
lessons, to tutor them in the art of tormenting, and 
Initiate them in the taste of blood, in which these 
scenes usually terminate. It is easy to see what deep 
impressions such lessons must make ; how successful 
they must prove in giving the young a licentious and 
cruel disposition, united with caution and dissimula- 
tion. They are even taught politeness, for they have 
rules of intercourse as rigid and minute as those of 
any court. In short, their whole system of tuition is 
designed to qualify them for gratifying their thirst of 
blood and revenge. On these points, their phrenzy 
is a subject of affright and wonder to the whites. 

" An impartial mind," says Long, p. 27, " will 
require but little to be persuaded, that the Indians are 
superior to us in the woods : it is their natural ele- 
ment, if I may be allowed the expression ; and a tree 
or river, of which their recollection never fails, guides 
them to the secret recesses of a deep wood, either for 
safety or the purposes of ambush. As they pay little 
attention to the rising or setting sun, it at first sur- 
prised me by what method they travel from place to 
place, without any material aberration : but this they 
soon explained, by assuring me, that they had not 



406 

the least difficulty in going from one spot to another, 
being governed by the moss on the trees, which al- 
ways remains on the north side, but on the south it 
wastes and decays : they remark also, that the 
branches are larger, and the leaves more luxuriant, 
on the south than on the north side of the tree. The 
most enlightened part of mankind, I am persuaded, 
cannot be more exact in their mode of judging, or 

more attentive to the works of nature." p. 29, 

*' The disposition of the Indians is naturally proud 
and self-sufficient : they think themselves the wisest 
of the sons of men, and are extremely offended when 
their advice is rejected. The feats of valour of their 
ancestors, continually repeated and impressed upon 
their minds, inspire theni with the most exalted no- 
tions of their own prowess and bravery : hence arises 
the firmest reliance on their own courage and power; 
and though but a handful of men, comparatively 
speaking, they are vain enough to think they can 
overthrow both French and English, v/henever they 
please. They say the latter are fools, for they hold 
their guns half man high, and let them snap ; but that 
they themselves take sight, and seldom fail of doing 
execution, which, they add, is the true intention of 
going to war." p. 27, " Even the great Wash- 
ington incurred their censure by his conduct, and 
gave occasion to an Indian chief, of the name of Tha- 
nachrishon, of the Seneca tribes, judging him by 
their own rules, to say, that he was a good-natured 
man, but had no experience." p. 37, " How- 



407 

ever, with regard to bodily strength, they are excelled 
by many ; and, even in hunting, the Virginians equal 
them in every part of the chace, though all the world 

allow them the merit of being good marksmen." 

p. 30, " The Iroquois laugh when you talk to them 
of obedience to kings, for they cannot reconcile the 
idea of submission with the dignity of man. Each 
individual is a sovereign in his own mind ; and as he 
conceives he derives his freedom from the Great Spi- 
rit alone, he cannot be induced to acknowledge any 
odier power. They are extremely jealous, and easily 
offended, and when they have been once induced to 
suspect, it is very difficult to remove the impression. 
They carry their resentments with them to the grave, 
and bequeath them to the rising generation. Those 
Mho have associated with them, though they may 
admire their heroism in war, their resolution in sup- 
porting the most excruciating tortures, and the sta- 
bility of their friendships, cannot but lament the 
dreadful effects of their displeasure, which has no 
bounds. It is this violence of temper, which is 
generally in the extreme, that makes them so difficult 
to subdue, and so dangerous to encourage : too much 
indulgence they attribute to fear, and too much seve- 
rity brings on resentment." p. 76, " It is very 

strange that the thirst of blood should stimulate the 
human mind to traverse such an amazing extent of 
country, suffering inexpressible hardships, and un- 
certain of success, to gratify a passion, which none 



408 

but an infernal spirit could suggest*- ; and when suc- 
cess has crowned his labours, that he should return 
with inconceivable satisfaction, and relate the trans- 
actions of his journey, Mith the greatest exultation, 
smiling at the relation of agonies which he alone oc- 
casioned. The most dreadful acts of a maniac can- 
not exceed such cruelty." 

Thus it appears, that the virtues of the savage are 
reduced to mere courage in danger, to contempt of 
pain and death, and patience under all the evils of 
existence. These, no doubt, are useful qualities : 
but they relate to the individual himself, they centre 
in his safety or felicity, and have no relation to the 
benefit of others. They are indications of a life of 
danger and distress ; a state of society so depraved, 
that its members look not for succour and sympathy 
to each other, but are driven, for solace, into despair 
or indifference. Of the aid or compassion they can- 
not procure they make themselves independent, and 
what they cannot get they learn not to wish, and when 
they cannot live they consent to die. 

It may, indeed, be urged that this people, in their 
leisure moments, laugh, sing, and play, and disturb 
themselves with no repinings for the past, nor care 
about the future. Does it not follow that they are 
happier than we ? To this Little Turtle shall answer, 
in his o\vn words : " No doubt they have pleasures 
of their own sort." 

* See Carver, chap. 9 and 16, and Hearnt's Journey. 



409 

Men are such pliant creatures, and habit is so 
strong with him, that in every situation there is some 
posture or some thought which amounts to temporary- 
ease, some moments in which he feels a kind of en- 
joyment, by comparison with dreaded or experienced 
suffering. If it be happiness to laugh, sing, and 
dance, soldiers may justly claim the meed of perfect 
happiness, since none are more careless and merry 
than they, even in the midst of perils, or on the eve 
of batde. 

During the gloomiest period of the revolution, the 
tenants of the Conciergerie were happy, since they 
were in general more gay and careless than their 
keepers, or than those abroad, who only feared a like 
fate. The terrors of those at freedom were propor- 
tioned to the pleasures they wanted to preserve. — 
Those in prison felt but one care : that of saving 
their lives. Every moment of suspence was an ac- 
quisition, and each day the prisoner blest himself for 
being still among the living. Such is pretty much the 
state of a soldier in war, and such is always the con- 
dition of savage life. If this be happiness, wretched 
is the country in which it is an object of envy. 

More advantageous notions cannot reasonably be 
formed of Indian liberty. He is only the slave of his 
wants, and of Nature, froward and unkind. He has 
neither food nor rest at command. He must con- 
tinually encounter fatigue, hunger and thirst, heat 
and cold, and every inclement vicissitude. His ig- 
norance engenders a thousand errors and superstitions, 

3 F 



410 

unknown to civilised nations, of which his tranquil- 
lity is the hourly victim. 

The limits to which I have confined myself do not 
permit me to enter into the minute details of this im- 
portant subject. I shall content myself with saying, 
that the more we study the manners of savage nations, 
the greater light is thrown upon the nature of man, 
and the history and origin of society, and especially 
on the situation of the nations of antiquity. I have 
often been struck with the analogy subsisting be- 
tween the Indians of North America, and the nations 
so much extolled of ancient Greece and Italy. In the 
personages of Homer's Iliad, I find die manners and 
discourse of the Iroquois and Delawares. Sophocles 
and Euripides pourtray, most faithfully, the opinions 
of the red men^ on necessity, destiny, and the mise- 
ries of human life. But the opening of the history of 
Thucydides, in which the author gives a concise view 
of the Greeks, before and after the Trojan war, up 
to his own times, affords a picture, whose similitude 
to the scenes I have been describing is so forcible, 
that I cannot resist the temptation of quoting it. 

" It is certain, that the region now known by the 
name of Greece was not formerly possessed by any 
fixed inhabitants, but was subject to frequent migra- 
tions, as constantly every distinct people easily yielded 
up their seats to the violence of a larger supervening 
number. For, as commerce there was none, and 
mutual fear prevented intercourse, both by sea and 
land ; as then the only view of culture was to earn a 



411 

penurious subsistence, and superfluous wealth was a 
thing unknown ; as planting was not their employ- 
ment, it being uncertain how soon an invader might 
come and dislodge them from their unfortified habi- 
tations ; and as they thought they might every where 
find their daily necessary support, they hesitated but 
little about shifting their seats. And for this reason 
they never flourished in the greatness of their cities, 
or any other circumstance of power. But the richest 
tracts of country ever were more particularly liable 
to this frequent change of inhabitants, such as that 
which is now called Thessaly, and Bceotia, and Pelo- 
ponnesus mostly except Arcadia, and in general every 
the most fertile part of Greece. For, the natural 
wealth of their soil encreasing the power of some 
amongst them, that power raised civil dissensions, 
which ended in their ruin, and at the same time ex- 
posed them more to foreign attacks. It was only the 
barrenness of the soil that preserved Attica through 
the longest space of time, quiet and undisturbed, in 
one uninterrupted series of possessors. One, and not 
the least convincing, proof of this is, that other parts 
of Greece, because of the fluctuating condition of the 
inhabitants, could by no means in their growth keep 
pace with Attica. The most powerful of those, who 
were driven from the other parts of Greece by war or 
sedition, betook themselves to the Athenians for secure 
refuge, and as they obtained the privileges of citizens, 
have constantly, from remotest time, continued to en- 
large that city with fresh accessions of inhabitants, in- 



412 

somuch that at last, Attica being insufficient to sup- 
port the numbers, they sent over colonies into Ionia. 

" The custom of wearing weapons once prevailed 
all over Greece, as their houses had no manner of 
defence, as travelling was full of hazard, and their 
whole lives passed in armour, like barbarians. A 
proof of this is the continuance still in some parts of 
Greece of those manners, which were once with uni- 
formity general to all. The Athenians were the first 
who discontinued the custom of wearing their swords, 
and who passed from the dissolute life into more polite 
and elegant manners. 

" Sparta is not closely built, the temples and pub- 
lic edifices by no means sumptuous, and the houses 
detached from one another, after the old mode of 
Greece. 

*' Such are the discoveries I have made concerning 
the ancient state of Greece, which, though drawn 
from a regular series of proofs, will not easily be cre- 
dited : for it is the custom of mankind, nay even 
where their own country is concerned, to acquiesce, 
with ready credulity, in the traditions of former ages, 
without subjecting them to the test of sedate exami- 
nation. Thus, for instance, it is yet a received opi- 
nion, that the Lacedeemonian kings had each of them 
a double and not a single vote in public questions ; 
and that, amongst them, the Pittanate was a military 
band, which never yet existed. So easy a task to 
numbers is the search of truth, so eager are they to 
catch at whatever lies at hand ! 



413 

*' And as for the actions performed in the course 
of this war, I have not presumed to describe them 
from casual narratives or my own conjectures, but 
either from certainty, where I myself was a spectator, 
or from the most exact informations I have been able 
to collect from others. This indeed was a work of 
no little difficulty, because even such as were present 
at those actions disagreed in their accounts about 
them, according as affection to either side or memory 
prevailed. My relation, because quite clear of fable, 
may prove less delightful to the ears. But it will 
afford sufficient scope to those who love a sincere ac- 
count of.past transactions, of such as in the ordinary 
vicissitude of human affairs may fully occur, or at 
least be resembled again. 

" After the engagement at sea, the Corey reans 
having erected a trophy upon Leucimna, a promon- 
tory of Corcyra, put to death all the prisoners they had 
taken, except the Corinthian, whom they kept in 
chains*." 

In this picture there is not a single line that is not 
verified in the history of the American tribes, except 
only Avhat relates to Attica, whose peculiar advantages 
were too remarkable to be omitted. 

A very interesting and instructive parallel might 
be drawn between the savage nations of America and 
the primitive states of Italy and Greece. It would 
dissipate a great number of illusions, by which our 

* Smith's Translation of Thurydides. 



414 

judgment is misled in the ordinary modes of educa- 
tion. We should be enabled to form just notions of 
the golden age^ when men roamed about naked, in 
the woods of Thessaly and Hellas, feeding upon 
herbs and acorns. We should see, in the early 
Greeks, just such savages as those of America, pla- 
ced in a similar country : for Greece, when over- 
spread with trees and bogs, was much colder than at 
present. We should learn that the Pelasgi, a race 
dispersed from the Alps to Taurica, were merely the 
primitive wild hordes, wandering and hunting for 
their bread, like Hurons and Algonquins of the pre- 
sent age, or the Celts and Germans of old. Jt would 
be easy to perceive that colonies of more enlightened 
strangers, from the Phenician and Egyptian coasts, 
settling among them, had nearly the same intercourse 
with them, as the first New England and Virginian 
colonists had with the untutored natives. Thus we 
should be able to explain the revolutions among these 
people ; the spirit of their tribes, where every stranger 
was an enemy, and every robber a hero ; when force 
was the only law, and the only virtue bravery ; when 
every troop was a sovereign state, and every jumble 
of huts was a city. We should see the origin of 
that pride and ostentation, treachery and cruelty, sedi- 
tion and tyranny, which the Greeks display, in every 
period of their history ; the sources of those fallaci- 
ous notions of virtue and glory, sanctioned by their 
priests, and blazoned by their poets, which make war 
and its bloody trophies the only aim of manly ambi- 



415 

tion, the true road to flime, and the proper object of 
idolatry to the blind and deluded multitude. Since, 
of late, we have been seized with a passion for imi- 
tating these people, and regard their morals and man- 
ners, like their poetry and arts, as the models of all 
perfection, we should, finally, perceive that we are 
worshipping the spirit of a rude and barbarous age. 

This analogy even extends to the religion a4id phi- 
losophy of Greece : for the Indian has reduced to 
practice all the precepts of the stoic school. If any 
should infer, from. this similitude, that the Indians are 
sages, I should, take leave, with as good reason, to 
infer, that such sages were no better than Indians. 
The true conclusion would be, that the state of soci- 
ety in which such harsh philosophy was propagated, 
for the sake of making life supportable, could not be 
superior to the miserable condition of Creeks and 
Chactaws. My inference would be justified by the 
whole history of the Greek tribes, even at their bright- 
est periods, by the long series of their wars and sedi- 
tions, till their conquest by the Romans, another race 
of savages from Italy, who, in their morals^ policy^ 
and aggrandizement^ hear a striking resemblance lo the 
Six Nations^. 

* The above observations will raise a smile in most readers. 
Volney's abi'.orrence of Rousseau, and his 7}ian of nature, has hur- 
ried him to the contrary extreme. These two extremes, like all 
others, are nearly allied, and we here find him maintaining, that 
the most polished nations of mankind are not a whit wiser, better, 
or happier, than the Hurons and Algonquins.— .Trans, 



416 

There is no reguhir system of religion a.mong the' 
Indians, because each one employs the liberty allowed 
him, of making a religion for himself. The introduc- 
tion of christian missionariesappearsto have somewhat 
modified their primitive opinions. As far, however, 
as we can collect consistent accounts, from early his- 
torians and late travellers in the north-west, the fol- 
lowing appear to be the outlines of Indian mythology: 

First, they believe in a great Manito, or genius, 
who rules the world or universe, that is, the air and 
the earth, for these constitute their universe. This 
being, dwelling somewhere above them, governs the 
world, though with little trouble to himself; sends 
wind, rain, or fair weather, according to his fancy ; 
sometimes makes a noise, which is thunder, for his 
own pastime ; takes as little heed of men as of other 
animals ; dispenses good or ill by chance or at ran- 
dom, leaving the world meanwhile to fate or necessity, 
whose laws are absolute over all things. They com- 
monly call this being the Master of life, or He wbo 
made its, though this title they may have gotten from 
the missionaries. 

Under this supreme power are numj^erless ManitoSy 
who traverse earth and air, and govern all things, 
each having his separate province. Some of them 
are good, and all the good that happens comes from 
them ; while others are bad, and all the evil that 
befals us is their work. All the worship they know is 
offered to the latter, whose wrath they strive, by their 
offerings or prayers, to appease or avert, as men en- 



417 

deaVonr.to soothe the envious or morose among them- 
selves. They pay little or no honiage to the good 
Manitos, because these act from their own benign 
nature, and would do just as they do without the 
prayer. 

" Primus in orbe deos fecit timor." 

The dread of these mischievous deities is their 
most constant companion and greatest tormentor. 
The boldest warriors are, on this head, as timid as 
the women and children. A dream, a phantom, a 
mysterious cry, equally alarms them ; but as there 
are always knaves w here there are dupes, every tribe 
has a juggler, whose trade is to expound dreams, and 
to negociate between the Maniio and the votary. 
Like valets in old comedies, he carries messages be- 
tween parties invisible to each other ; and this office, 
we may well suppose, is not unattended with profit. 
The missionaries and these jugglers are particularly- 
odious to each other, and each stigmatises Ills oppo- 
nent as a knave and impostor. Though so familiar 
with these genii, they cannot describe their form or 
nature. They suppose them to be bodies of a light, 
volatile, shadowy texture. Sometimes they and their 
disciples will select a particular one, and give him, 
for a dwelling, a certain tree, serpent, rock, or water- 
fall, and him they make their Fetish, like the Africans 
of Congo. 

3 G 



418 

They generally admit the notion of another life*. 
After death, they shall go, they think, to a country 
where game and fish abound, where they can hunt 
without toil, walls, without danger of an ambush, re- 
gale upon fat meatf, and, in short, pass their time 
amid those enjoyments which they valued here. The 
northern tribes place their heaven in the south-west 
quarter, because their fair and mild weather comes 
from thence. The missionaries tell us, that they 
have notions of reward and punishment, but this, to 
deserve credit, demands more impartial testimony. 

These outlines are sufficient to show the strong 
analogy between the mythological notions of the 
American Indians and the Asiatic Tartars, as the 
latter have been described by the recent Russian tra- 
vellers. The analogy between them and the notions 
of the Greeks is no less apparent. We discover the 
chief Manito in Homer's Jupiter. The latter, how- 
ever, leads not the poor, unsettled, melancholy life of 
the Indian Jove, but enjoys all the magnificence of 
the court of Ethiopia, or rather of the hundred- 
gated Thebes, whose gorgeous secrets have been un- 

* This does not quite as^ree with an assertion which occurred 
before, that the Indian captive at the stake is 'lot supported, like 
the christian martyr, by the hope of another life. — Trans. 

t People who frequent the woods come to prefer fat to lean. 
The lean digests too quickly, on which account the Canadians 
term it viandt-fiain^ meat-bread. I have experienced this myself, 
and, like ihem, soon began to like a slice from a bear better than 
the winir of a turkev. 



419 

folded to us by the enterprise and curiosity of the pre- 
sent age*. 

In the other Manitoes we perceive, no less clearly, 
the subordinate divinities of Greece, the nymphs and 
demons of the waters and the land. I mean not to 
insinuate that the Indians have borrowed their doc- 
trines from Scythia or Greece. Shamanism, or the 
system of Buddtha, may possibly have spread itself 
throughout the old world, where it is found even at 
the extremities of Spain, Scotland, and Denmark ; 
but it is quite as possible that it is a native product 
of the human mind, since it everywhere bears an in- 
timate relation to the habits and condition of the peo- 
ple who profess itf. 

* See Denon's Travels. 

t The christian missionaries, catholic and protestant, among 
the Indians, have exerted great pains to convert them. The art- 
ful system of the Jesuits was the most successful in bringing them 
to an outward form of worship, but the Jilain good sense of these 
people could never admit incomprehensible dogmas. They went 
to mass, -ind said the formularies prescribed, for the sake of the 
bread bestowed upon them, by which their hunger was gratified 
without labour ; but I never heard, in the United States, of a sin- 
gle Indian truly become a christian. When, therefore, a cele- 
brated author among us builds a recent romance on the nun-like 
devotion of a young squaw, he has violated all the laws of proba- 
bility. If, indeed, he only aimed at pleasing a party, and effect- 
ing a certain purpose, he has adopted the right method. — V. 
It is amusing to compare this passage, in which the author gives 
to his savages a/^fomjroof/sensd', superior to the wisest Europeans, 
for such have adopted the dogmas he speaks of, with the picture 
before given of their gross superstition, credulity, and ignorance. 



420 

The great difiiculty in believing a transmission of 
religious ideas through many generations, coiibisLs 
in the total absence, among savages, of records or 
writings of any kind. They know of nothing past but 
by oral tradition, and, in this form, the trti h is striin,L>;e- 
ly distorted in its passage from mouth to mouth. 
Very recent facts are totally disguised when propa- 
gated in this manner. In treating of the Arabs*, I 
have shown to what degree traditions are distorted 
and changed by the people of the east, though a con- 
trary opinion is cherished by some learned men, es- 
pecially theologians. I have shown that among these 
people, few even remember their own age, or the in- 
cidents of childhood : a negligence and forgetfulness 
common to the igi,'>rant of every nation ; nay, these 
are qualities inseparable from human naturef. 

He never heard, it si;eni3, of whut is familiarly known to all who 
.luve taken the trouble to attend to the history of the moravian 
missior.? ir. America. But Volney's zeal against Rousseau on one 
hand, and the preachers of religion on the other, has led him, in 
this part of his work, into many contradictions and absurdities. — . 
Trans. 

* See Travels in Syria and Egypt. 

t The most unlettered American, and one who easily forgets 
his own age, or his brother's christian name, )^t knows with cer- 
tainty, though no book contains it, from what part of Germany or 
England his ancestor came, a hundred and fifty years ago. Vol- 
ney infers too much from a man's negligence or forgetfulness in 
his own concerns, which are not impressed upon his mind by fre- 
quent repetition, as to his aptness to forget or distort national 
events, which are the themes of eternal talk and public recitals. 
—Trans. 



421 

The Indians of America afford additional evidence 
of tiiis truth, for every body I consulted agreed in as- 
suring me, that, they have no clear remembrance or 
tradition of a fact which happened a hundred years 
ago. And, indeed, what else can be reasonably ex- 
pected from their roving life, the calamities of war, 
emigration, and famine, to which they are so liable, 
and from their incurable negligence ? 

There is only one species of memorial among them, 
which consists in linking phrases together, which are 
equal in thrir syllables, and rhyme together. These 
may be styled ■verses^ and are either spoken or sung. 
By means of measure and rhyme, a consistency and 
permanence is given to meanings, which they Mould 
otherv^'ise want. To this rude and artlens original 
may the divine art of poetry be traced, and hence its 
first and most ancient essays are extravagant tales of 
gods and ghosts, of battles and piracies, adventure 
and revenge. Such are the songs of the bards of 
Odin, Fingal, and Achilles : though the latter was 
superior to the rest in genius and knowledge, their 
stories accord with the spirit of that barbarous age, 
ignorant, superstitious, and ferocious, in which" they 
were first compiled. 

It may be said, that the Indians are not without a 
sort of hieroglyphics, by which they transmit ideas to 
a distance. They depict a Frenchman by the figure of 
a man with his arms a-kimbo, a prisoner by a figure 
with his arms bound, but the defects of such repre- 
sentations are obvious. The trudi is, that they have no 



422 

means of distant communication, no monuments nor 
traces of antiquity. There is not, in any part of Nortli 
America, but Mexico, any building-, or remains of 
building in brick or stone, to testify the existence of 
ancient arts. A few earthen barrows, or tumuli, 
which serve as tombs, and some lines, or entrench- 
ments, including from one to thirty acres, are all that 
exist at ])resent. I have seen three of these mounds : 
one at Cincinnati, and two in Kentucky, on the road 
from Cincinnati to Lexington. They are merely 
mounds of ditches, four or five feet high, and eight 
or ten broad at bottom. Their figure is irregular, 
sometimes oval, sometimes round, and afford no indi- 
cation of skill in the military or in any other art. The 
largest of these is at Muskingum, and is square, and 
of great dimensions, but from the account of it given 
by Dr. Barton, in his Observations on Natural His- 
tory*, it possesses neither bastions nor towers, as has 
once been said. They must have been mere entrench- 
ments, made for defence, such as Oldmixon reports 
to have been usual among the natives, at the first ar- 
rival of the Europeans, when their dwellings were 
more fixed, and their numbers greater and more 
equal. They have all been produced by the same 
causes, and appear to have required no tools but bas- 
kets and hoes. 

As to the tumuli, I examined one near Cincinnati, 
about half a mile west of tiie fort. It is covered with 

* Part I, Philadelphia, 1787. 



423 

trees of spontaneous growth. It reminded me of the 
barrows I had seen on the borders of Syria, though the 
latter are stronger, being formed to support towers. 
Many are found, bearing a nearer resemblance to the 
Indian, in Russia and Tarlary. Many of these tumuli 
have been opened : they are found to contain nothing 
but human bones, with the bows, arrows, and toma- 
hawks of the savage warrior. General St. Clair cut 
down one of the largest trees growing on them, and 
found it to contain upwards of 432 annual rings, 
which would argue a date as early as 1300 or 1350. 

More accurate enquiries must, hov.ever, be left to 
the learned in America, who enjoy the best opportu- 
nities of settling the truth. 

Language is the most instructive and unerring of 
all the monuments of rude nations. Dr. Barton has 
published a curious dissertation on this subject*, in 
which he compares several of their dialects with each 
other, and with those of the Tartarian nations of 
Asia. He was aided in this task by the collections, 
made by Dr. Pallas, of words in near three hun- 
dred Asiatic languages, by order of the empress 
Catherinef. 

* See New Views of the Origin of the Nations and Tribes of 
America, London, 1798. 

t This work, whose object was to infuse some Iii;ht and order 
into the chaos of languages, Avas printed in Russian characters, 
by which the utility of the work is considerably circumscribed, as 
these characters are confined to a nation not very rich in books, 
and but little advanced in the sciences. The Roman character 



424 

These disquisitions have led Dr. Barton to several 
important conclusions, though all of them do not ap- 
pear to be equally v. ell-founded. I cannot discover 
the affinity inferred by him between the language of 
the Caribbeans, Brazillians, and Peruvians, and those 
of the Putewoatamies, Delawares, and Six Nations, 
merely from a likeness between two or three words. 
I agree with him more fully in the resemblance he 
traces between the latter and the dialects of north- 
eastern Asia. Much credit, however, is due to him 
for opening a mine of valuable and curious know- 
ledge, a mine which ought to be explored more 
deeply, and by the united efforts of many learned men. 
It is extremely desireable that the American govern- 
ment, impressed with the importance of the subject, 
would insiitute a society or college of five or six ac- 
complished linguists, to be employed solely in collect- 
ing and forming 'Docabiilaries and grammars of the In- 
dian languages. In a few ages, the red men will pro- 
bably perish for ever. Vast numbers have already 
disappeared, and if the present opportunity be lost, 
the only clue to the affinity between the natives of 

is diiTuscd through the greater part of Europe, and will soon sup- 
plant the Gothic character in Germany, and become universal in 
America. Will it not be eligible for the Russians to adopt it 
likewise, and thus join themselves to the enlightened part of man- 
kind ? For the sounds peculiar to themselves, they might adopt 
the same mode pursued by the French, in naturialising the Ara- 
bic, Turkish, and Persian alphabets, that is, by giving new letters 
to such sounds. Much trouble and expence would thus be 
avoided. 



425 

America and those of the north-east of Asia will be; 
lost. The expence of such an institution would be 
of little moment to a frugal and wealthy people, 
and, indeed, would be ultimately a source of gain, 
by the benefits it Avould afford to the trade in books*. 
In submitting this scheme to the members of the 
government, the friends of science and literature, I am 
the more in earnest, because there prevails throughout 
their nation a strong prejudice against affording any 
public or political encouragement to literature. This 
the people generally imagine should be left, like other 
arts or pursuits, to the choice and resources of the 
individual. The parallel they suggest between this 
and the common arts of subsistence is extremely fal- 
lacious, since to cultivate the sciences with spirit and 

* The American citizen will smile at this proposal. The grea£ 
importance here bestowed on the business of collecting the dia- 
lects of barbarous tribes, who are hastening to oblivion, for the 
sole purpose of throwing a faint light on the question whether 
these tribes originally came from the north of Asia, will hardly be 
felt by the busy merchant, artizan, or farmer, or by their public 
representatives or secretaries. This is an amusing instance of 
the way in which men like Volney would employ political autlio- 
rity and the public revenue, and of the pursuits Avhich a govern- 
ment ought, in their opinion, to deem it an important duty to pro- 
mote. It reminds us of the virtuoso v/ho petitioned parliament to 
hold its future sittings at Stonehenge, to call the king Pendragon, 
and oblige the universities to confine all tiieir instructions, and the 
courts of law to conduct all their processes in the pure old dialect 
of Wales. But though Volney will be thought by many to over- 
rate the importance of his subject, enlightened minds must ac- 
knowledge that it is a curious and instructive one.— Trans. 

3h 



426 

success requires the total devotion of a man's time, 
and the renoi-ncing of all other means of fortune or 
subsistence. He must be exempt from the cares both 
of riches and of poverty. For this end he must be 
above want, and have a competence provided for him. 
The salaries allowed by princes, and the funds appro- 
priated to collegiate institutions answer these ends. 
France is indebted for all her intellectual superiority 
in EurojDe to this system, and the beneficial influence 
of the sciences on commerce and manufactures, on 
public and private prosperity, has been so evident, that 
this system remained inviolate through all the shocks 
and changes of her government. The United States 
may acquire the same illustrious pre-eminence in the 
new world, by adopting the" same system. A hun- 
dred thousand dollars a year is a moderate expence 
for so opulent a people : yet this would create a 
college of sages*, by whose intellectual labours, not 
only dieir native country but the world might be ex- 
tensively benefited. They would do an eminent ser- 
vice, were it merely in freeing their nation from the 
reproach of having grown visibly indifferent to the 
sciences and useful arts, since its revolution, and of 
sufiering the education of youth to sink into disorder 
and neglect. This charge has been made upon this 
nation, not only by strangers, but by the most judi- 
cious and enlightened of its own citizens. 

* It would be an ample subsistence to a huyidrccl Jiersons^ who 
might each gratuitously educate twenty youths, in all tivo thoumnd 
pupils. What a cheap, yet what a gloiicus institution ! — Tuans* 



427 

I shall here add a vocabulary of the Miami tongue, 
a dialect which appears to belong to the language of 
the Chippewan tribes, who, Mackenzie tells us, be- 
lieve themselves to have originally come from the 
north-east of Asia. The collection is very imperfect, 
but it is perhaps sufficiently extensive to supply the 
learned linguists of Germany and Russia, who are 
versed in the Asiatic dialects, with the means of com- 
paring them together. If it serve to facilitate some 
discoveries in that quarter, or awaken the liberal zeal 
of the government of the United States to pursue this 
interesting subject, my wishes will be accomplished. 



VOCABULARY 



THE MIAMI LANGUAGE. 



IN the following list, I have given the sound 
of the Spanish] to the x. 

H has a strong aspiration. 

Th is English in path. 

I have added to the sounds of these words, accord- 
ing to the French alphabet, some examples of the 
English mode of pronouncing the same sounds, to 
shou^ the confusion arising from the different powers 
assigned by different nations to the same letters. 

Where the English pronunciation has a b subjoined 
to it, it was taken from Dr. Barton ; in other cases, 
from Mr. Weils*. 

* I have retained Volney's orthography, because to attempt to 
substitute English sounds instead of them would have been an 
arbitrary and capricious method. — Trans. 



430 





Miami after the 


Miami after the 


JLnglish, 


French Ortho- 
graphy. 


English, Remarks. 


I 


Nelah 


Nalaugh e is equivalent to 


Thou and you 


The you is used 


the French ee, 




for both. 


that is, to the 


He, she 


See they 


Awaleaugh long e. 


We 


Kelonah 


Calonaugh 


You 


Kelah 


Calaugh 


They 


Aoueloua (oua 






short) 


Awalewaugh 


Mine 


Nelali-neneh 


Nalaugh-nenigh 


Thy 


Ki. See Your 




His, hers 


Aouela-neneh 


Awalelah-nen- 
negh 


Our 


Kelonah 


Calonaugh 


Your 


Kelela-neneh 


Kalelaugh- 
nennagh 


Their 


See Hi» 


5 Nosh saugh 

C Noch sau b. J|p 


Father (my) 


Noxsahe 


Fathers (the) 


Oxsema 


Mother (your) 


Kekiah 


Kakecaugh 


Mothers (the) 


Akememah 


Aukeemeemauh 


Son 


Akouissima 


C* 


His son 


Akouissaleh 


Augwissaulay 


His (laughter 


Atanaleh 




My brother 


Ouedsa milane 


Sheemah, taken 
for sister b. 


Our brother 


Ouedsa-mon- 
koua 




My sister 


Ningo chema 




Their sister 


Agoz-chimouale 


Augoshim >vau- 
ley 



431 



English, 
My husband 


Miami after the 
French Ortho- 
grafihy. 

Nena pema. Li 


Miami after the 

English. Remarks. 




terally master 








of weakness. 






My wife 


Ninoueouah 


Neeweewah b 




A woman 


Metamsah 






A man 


Helaniah 

c 


Hellaniare < 


In Delaware, 
Lenno, Chippe- 
way, Lennis, 
Shawnese, Linni. 
Why were the 
ancient Greeks 
called Hellenes? 
And a Tartar 
Jribe Alani? 


A little boy 
An old man 


Apilossah 
Keocha 


Apeelotsaugh 
Kaowshaw 




One 
Two 
Three 


Ingote 

Nichoue 

Nexsoue 


Ingotay 

Neshsway 

Nessweh 




Four 
Five 


Nioue 
Yalanoue 


Neeway 
Yallawnwee 




Six 


Kakotsoue 


Cau cutsweh 




Seven 


Souaxtetsoue 


Swattetssweh 




Eight 


PoUane 


PuUawneh 




Nine 


Ingote-meneke 


Ingotim manee! 


ca 


Ten 


Matatsoue 


Mautotssweh 




Head 


Indepekone 






Eye 


Kechekoue 






Nose 


Kioufuie 






My nose 


Nin-kiouanc 




i 


Your nose 


Ki-kiouane 






Ear 


Taouake 






Forehead 


Ma rgaouio guile 






Hair (of the 
head or body) 


> Nelissah 


1231 


98 194 



•^ 



432 



English. 


Miami after the 
French Qrtho- 
grajihy. 


Mouth 


Tonench 


Tongue 


Ouelane 


Tooth 


Ouipitah 


Beard 
Hand 


Messetoninguc 
Onexka ' 


Foot 


Katah 


Skin 


Lokaie 


Flesh 


Ouioxse 



Remarks* 



Blood (Seei2fc?)Nixpekenoue 
Heart Tahe 



Belly 


Moigue or Moit- 
cze 






Pronounced iu 
the Russian man- 
ner 


Life 


Mahtsaneouingue 








Death 


Nahpingue 


Nipon 

dead) 


(He 


is It is peculiar 
to the northern 


Sleep 


Nipangu6 


Nipahanoue 


tribes to associ- 






(Coldness) 


ate the three ide- 


To kill 


Anguecheouingue 






as of sleep, cold, 


Day 


Ispete 






and death 


The sun 


Ispete-kilixsoua 
{Light of day) 








Night 


Pekonteoue 








The moon 


Pekonteoue-kilix- 
soua (Light of 
Night) 








Morning 


Cheipaoue 








Evening 


Elakouikex 


' 






A star 


Alangoua 






. 


The firmament 


Kechekou6 








Wind 


Alamthenoue 








Thunder 


Tchingouia 








Rain 


Petilenoue 









433 





Miami after the 


English, 


French Ortho- 




graphy. 


Snow 


Mone toua (a ge- 




nius or spirit) 


Ice 


Achonkoneh 


Hot 


Chiliteoue 


Cold 


Nipahanoue 


Summer 


Nihpenoue 


Winter 


Piponoue 


The earth 


Akinkeoue 


An island 


Menahanoue 


Water 


Nepe 


Fire 


Kohtcoue 


Flame 


Paukouikoue 


A river 


Sipioue 


A lake 


NipiHsi 


A rivulet 


Maxtchekoraeke 


The sea 


Kitchi-kame 


A mountain 


Atchioue 


A hill 


Ispotehkike 


A tree 


Metehkoue 


Trees 


Metehkonah 


Wood 


Taouane 


A forest 


Mtenkoke 


A track (of 


Pam ehkaou an gue 


game) 




To hunt 


DonamaHoua 


The chace 


NaHtonamaoTiingue 


A bow 


Metehkouapa 


An arrow 


Taouanthaloua 


The leaves 


Mechipakoua 


(that) fall 


Papintiii.^ue 


(A man) falls 


Mejechenoua 


Game 


Aouassah 


Fish 


Kikonassah 




3 I 



434 



Miami after the 
Jrench Ortho- 
graphy. 

Aathut 
Mejekatoue 
Dopaleouah 
Taku.-kane 



English. 

A warrior 

War 

To go to war 

A tomahawk 

To paint the face Oucchihouingue 

A knife. Knives Malse. Malsa 



Remarkt, 



To scalp 

A prisoner 

A path 

A tobacco-pipe 

(calumet) 
Smoke 
A bouse 
A boat 



Laniok-koue 

Kikiouna 

Mioue 



Koue (the hair of the head.) 



) 



Poakane 

Axkoleoue 

Ouikanie 

Missule, in the fdur* 
Mis sol a 
A net Sapa, plural Sapake 

Dri' d meat Pohtekia 

Smoked meat Oxkole Saminguia 
A tomb Eouissi-kine 

Peace Fehkokia (good^ 

abundance.) 
Good (the subs.) Pthkoke 
Bad (the subs.) Meleoxke 
(a) Good (man) Tipeoua 
Wicked (Fortt) Matchi* 

Sweett Ouekapanke 



* In general, all words implying beautiful and good begin with a 
p, and, on the contrary, those that signify bad or ugly with an m. 

t They call the bee the fly that makes sweet: they say that it is 
not a native of the country, and precedes the settlers a year. Jlmo- 
houia is applied to all the genus. Nonzaoue-amohouia^ yellow fly, 
signifies a hornet. 



435 







Miami after the 


JEng 


'Izs/i. 


French Ortho- 
graphy. 


Bitter 




Ouessakangue 


Lon^ 


\ 


Kenouake 


Short 




Ixkouake 



(a) High (hill) Ifpatingu6 
High (in the sky)Ifpatingue 
Low jVIataxke 

Slow, easy QuChkeoue 

Ready Kinsehkaoue 

A cloud (rapid) Kintche seoue 
(a) Deep (river) Kenonoue 



Smooth 


Tetipaxkeoue 


Great 


Man choke, kitchi 


Little 


Apilik6 


Broad 


Metchahkeoue 


Narrow- 


Apassiaoue 


Heavy 


Ktchokouane 


Light 


Nanguetcheoue 


Iron 


Kepikitoue 


Copper 


Naxpekacheke 


Gold 


Honzaouechoule 


Silver 


Choule or Tsoule 


Lead 


Lontsah 


A stone 


Sane 


White 


Ouapekingu6 


Black 


Mankateouekingue 


Red 


Nenpekekingue 


Blue 


Ixkepakingu6 


Yellow 


Honzaouekingu6 


Green 


Anzanzekingue 


A wild ox, 


or 


buffalo 


Alanantsoua 


A beaver, or 


lit- 


tie deer 


Mo H soke 



436 



Miami after the 
French Ortho- 
grafihy, 

Moxkoua, Maxkoke in the filur. 

Alamo, filur. Alamoke 

INI'ntchepe 

Ahonchsensa 

Aouinkanemah 

KitaHkiamouna 

Tepale'ingue 

Keouc I virtue 

Ki-oueleouah 

Sehkouinc^rie 

Sehpingouah 

Kilakilaxkouingue 

AtchiiT»ouna 

PanipeHnn:ue 

Mah m i kouiit gue 

Nessingue 

Alamsenoue 

Kcoueneoua 

Kouahlamingue 



Mngl.'th. 

A bear 
A dog 
Indian corn 
A bird 
A friend 
An eneiny 
Love 
Laughter 
To Li'if-h 
To weep 
A tear 
To sper-k 
A discourse 
To walk 
To run 
To breathe 
To blow 
To sigh 
.'o fear 
The miad, spirit, 

or soul Atchipaia. Tha.t is, a Jlying phantotv. 

God Kitchi Manetoua fthe Great S/iirilJ,ov Kajehelan- 

goua fUe ivho made us) 
Genii or spirits Manetoua, analogous to the Jnanes^ mani-um of the 

Romans 
The devil Matchi manitou 

Beautiful Penkesina 

Ugly Moleiousina 

A good man Tipeoua-heleniah 
A good v/oman Tipeoua-metamsa 

The savages Metoxlheniake (born of the soil) ^ 

The Europeans Ouabkiloketa (white skin) 



437 

Miami after the 
English, French Ortho- 

graphy. 

The French Mehtikocha (Ouemistergoch, a builder of ships, ia 

the Chippeway) 
An Englishman Axalachima 
An American Mitchi-Malsa (great knife) 
Yes I-y^ 

No Moxtche 

With Mamaoue, in Arabic ma 

They have not the verb to be. 

Their adjectives are of the common gender, as in 
English. See the example, a good man, a good wo2nan. 

In general, the plural of substantives is formed by 
idding to the singular the final syllable ke'. Metamsa, 
I woman ; Metamsake, the women. 



The -verb To Eat. 



I eat 

Thou eatest 
He or she eats 
We eat 
Ye eat 
They eat 

I have eaten 
Thou hast eaten 
He or she has eaten 
We have eaten 
Ye have eaten 
They have eaten 

I shall or will eat 
Thou shalt or wilt eat 



Niouissini 
Kiouissini 
Ouissinioua 
Niouissini mina 
Kiouissini moua 
Ouissiniouuke 

Chaiani ouissine 
Chaiaki ouissine 
Chaiae ouissinoua 
Chaiae kiouissini-mina 
Chaiae kiouissini-moua 
Chaiae oussiniouake 

Nouissini kate 
Kiouissini kate 



# 



438 



£nglieh. 

He or she shall or will eat 
We shall or will eat 
Ye shall or will eat 
They shall or will eat 

Eating 

Hunger 

•I am hungry 



Miami after the 
French Ortho- 
graphy. 

Ouissinioua kite 

Kiouissini mina-kate 

Kiouissini-mo-kitte 

Ouissiniouakc kate 

Ouessiningue 

Aixouingue 

Indaiexkoui 



The verb To Drink. 



I drink 

Thou drinkest 
He or she drinks 
We drink 
Ye drink 
They drink 
Drink 



Nemtne 

KimSne 

Menoud 

Kiniene mena 

Kimen6 moua 

Meno-ke 

M^ningue 



The verb To Beat, 



I beat 

Thou beatest 
He or she beats 
We beat 
Ye beat 
They beat 



Indane ehoue 
Kidane ehoue 
Ane ehoue 
Kidane ehouemena 
Kidane kioue (or hioue)^ 
Anehe ehouake 



The /las&ive voice. 



I am beaten 
Thou art beaten 
He or she is beatea 



Indane ekoua 
Kidane ekoua 
Ane haoua 



439 



English. 

We are beaten 
Ye are beaten 
They are beaten 

I have been beaten 
Thou hast been beaten 
He or she has been beaten 
We have been beaten 
Ye have been beaten 
They have been beaten 



ATiami after the 
Jbrench Ortho- 
graphy. 

Kic'ane ekoua 

Kicla:ie ekoha 

Ane haouake 

Indane nehekoua 
Kicane nehekoua 
Anene haoua 
Kicane nehekomena 
Kicane nehekoua 
Anene haouake 



I shall or will be beaten Incline heko-kat6 

Thou shalt or wilt be beaten Kicane heko-kate 
He or she shall or will be beaten Ane haoua-kate 
We shall or will be beaten Kidane hekomena-kate 
Ye shall or will be beaten Kican^ hekoua-kate 

They shall or will be beaten Ane haouake-kate 



ADDITIONAL NOTES. 



Page 364. Children never sttffer from dentition. 

THIS is a mistake. The Indian children seem to suffer 
not much less from dentition than the children of the Europo- 
Americans. This assertion is stated on the authority of Indians 
Ihemselver,, and of persons who have resided among the Indians. 
Some of my information, on this head, has been derived from the 
Miami and Putew^oatamie Indians, who seem to have been better 
known to Mr. Volney than almost any of the other tribes. 



Page 416. They commonly call this being the Master of life, or 
He who made us, though this title they may have gotten from the 
missionaries. 

By some of the tribes, he is called the Ufiholder of the skies, and 
the Maker of the soul. The last of these appellations has, I am 
persuaded, been derived from the missionaries and traders; the 
former seems more purely Indian. The words kitchi, kitsch/, 
kutche, &c. which are prefixed by many of the tribes to the word 
Manito, or Manitou, signify great : and it is worth observing, that 
Kootcha, or Kutxa, is one of the appellations for God in the lan- 
guage of some of the people of Kamtschatka. 

3 K 



442 



Page 4 1 8. The niisfiionarica tell u.t, that theij have notionn of reward 
and Jiuuifihincyit^ but this, to deaerve credit., demands more imjiar- 
tial tesiiniony. 

The idea of rewards and punishments seems net less natural to 
the human mind than the notion of a future state. There is, I 
think, little cause to doubt, that the American Indians, independ- 
ently of any intercourse with the missionaries or traders, had 
embraced both of these opinions, which seem to form a funda- 
mental part of the religious system of the savages, in every pan of 
North America. 



Page 419. Shamanism, or the system of Buddtlia, may possibly have 
sjircad itself throughout the old tvorld, where it is found even at 
the extremities of Spain, Scotland, arid Denmark ; but it is quite 
as possible that it is a native product of the liuman mind, since it 
every where bears an intimate relation to the habits and condition 
of the people who profess it. 

The mythological system of the Americans is, in very many 
respects, so similar to that of certain Asiatic nations, that the 
most natural inference is, that the one is derived from the other. 
A system so similar, not only in its general complexion, but also 
in many of its individual features, could never have been " a native 
product of the human mind," in opposite portions of the earth, 
where all interchange of manners, of religions, and of customs, 
was precluded. The only just theory of the physical, moral, and 
religious condition of mankind is founded upon this solid truth, 
that all nations are derived from a common stock, and tliat the 
dispersion of nations did not take place until after tlie £ecds of 
those religious truths and prejudices, which are every where to be 
met with, had been implanted in their minds. 



443 



Page 42 1 . Every body asuured me-, that they had no clear tradition 
of a fact nvhich hapfiei^ed a hundred years ago. 

Nothing can be more unfounded than this assertion. It is not 
contended that the stream of tradition can ever be preserved pure 
for a very considerable time ; but when it is remembered, that 
Indian men and women sometimes live to the age of eighty, 
ninety, and a hundred years, and, even at this very advanced age, 
preserve the faculties of their minds as little impaired as those of 
the aged whites, it would indeed be a very remarkable circum- 
stance, if there did exist among the Indians " no clear tradition 
of a fact which happened a hundred years ago." But Mr. Vol- 
ney's assertion miglit be controverted by an appeal to many of 
the missionaries and other persons, who have resided among the 
Indians. Some of tlie missionaries, in particular, have related to 
me facts impressively calculated to sliow how correctly the Indians 
often preserve the memory of events, that had taken place at a 
period much beyond the period of one hundred years. Not to 
insist any further upon this subject, it is a truth, that the Delawares, 
Monsees, and other tribes, still preserve a lively I'emembrance of 
the first arrival of the Europeans at New York, almost tvjo hun- 
dred years ago. 



Page 422. All these Jiiounds have been formed by the same means, 
and require no tools but hoes and baskets. 

For some very interesting information concerning the western 
fortifications, as they are commonly called, the reader is referred 
to a paper, by the learned bishop Madison, in the Transactions of 
the American Philosophical Society, vol. VI, part 1, Philadelphia, 

1804. 



444 



Page 423. iMngnage in the most instructive and unerring of all 
the monuments of rude nations. Dr. Barton has published a cuH- 
ous dissertation on this subject^ in which he compares sei<eral of 
their dialects ivith each ot/ier, and with those of the Tartarian 
nations of ^sia. He was aided in this task by the collections, made 
hij Dr. Pallas, of words in near three hundred Asiatic languages, 
by order of the empress Catherine, 

The comparisons have been extended to all the Tartar tribes 
enumerated in the great work of the Russian professor, which 
contains two hundred and one languages of Europe and Asia, and 
not near three hundred Asiatic languages, as Mr. Volney says. 
My comparisons have been extended to many other Asiatic, as 
well as European, tribes besides the Tartars : to the Semoyads, 
the Chinese, the Japanese, the nations inhabiting the mountains 
of Caucasus and Oural, &.c. Indeed, some of the most interesting 
instances of affinities are to be found between the languages of 
the last-mentioned nations and those of the Americans. The 
affinities leave no room to doubt, that the greater part of the 
known North American nations are branches of the same great 
stock, from whence have proceeded the Tartars, Samoyads, Chi- 
nese, Japanese, Kartalini, Vouguls, and many other nations of Asia 
and Europe. And if this point be established, I presume the phi- 
losophy of the Little Turtle (see page 363) will avail but little in 
diminishing our confidence in the generally received opinion, that 
the Americans are the descendants of the Asiatics, and not the 
latter of the former. 

The affinities between the dialects of the Caribbees, Brazillians, 
and Peruvians, on the one hand, and those of the Putewoatamies, 
Delawares, and Six Nations, on the other, are, it is readily con- 
fessed, not very numerous: but they are sufficiently numerous to 
establish this point, that these languages (some of them at least) 
are not so radically distinct as has been imagined. With respect 
to the dialects of the Six Nations, I still maintain, that they are 



445 

not radically distinct from the dialects spoken by the tribes of the 
Lenni-Lennape, or DelaMare stock, viz. the Chipi)eways, the 
Miamij=, the Sawannoos, the Putewoatamies, and many others. 
Later and more extended enquiries have confirmed me in the opi- 
nion I formerly advanced on this subject (see .Arw J'icw-^, Sec. 
appendix, p. 17 — 19). There is a still greater resemblance be- 
tween the dialects of the Six Nations and those of the southern 
tribes, known by the names of Cherokee, Muskohge (or Creeks), 
Chickasaws, Chactaws, Ecc. AH these speak dialects of a lan- 
guage unquestionably one and the same. Our know ledge of the 
languages of South America is very limited ; but it is sufiicient to 
show us, that the Peruvians, Chilese, Brazillians, and other nations 
of the southern hemisphere, do not speak languages radically dis- 
tinct from those of certain tribes and nations in the northern hemi- 
sphere ; and that the South Americans, as well as the North 
Americans, still preserve considerable fragments (as well as the 
peculiar genius) of the language of Asia. But this subject will be 
treated at considerable length in the second part of my JWvj Fiavs, 
■vviiich is nearly ready for the press. 



Page 434. I7i general, all ivords im/:li/i?ig beautiful and good begin 
with a /?, atid, on the conirary, those that signify bad or vgly idth 
an vu 

In looking over Mr. Volney's vocabulary, we shall find, that 
there is but very little solid foundation for the preceding observa- 
tions. It is true that some words beginning with an m do signify 
things. Sec. not very agreeable to us, such as match':, wicked, 7;.o- 
leioumia, ugly. Sec. On the other hand, however, the Miami 
names of Indian corn (which is certainly a very agreeable article 
to the savages), a woman, the forehead, an island, a rivulet, a tree, 
a bow, a path, a boat, a beaver, a bear, the savages themselves 
( Metoxth'niuke ),x\o\.\.oxiiZX\\\Qri\ otiiersj all begin v>ith the letter v;;. 



446 

As to the letter //, it appears from Mr. Volney's own vocabulary, 
that the words for night, rain, winter (which cannot have many 
charms to a cold or naked savage), and others, begin with the 
letter /i. If this were the proper place to pursue this subject, it 
would be easy to show, that Mr. Volney's two observations have 
as little foundation in the languages of those other North Ameri- 
can tribes (the Chippcways, the Putewoatamies, &c.)) which arc 
most nearlv allied to the dialect of the Miamis. 



627 



FINIS. 



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